Vampire Bay
by Skull Daddy
Summary: A year after the fall of the Vinci, Falcone and Clemente crime families, Vito and his friend Joe are part of a new crime family with Leo Galante in charge. Things are going fine, until strange killings happen throughout Empire Bay, which ties in with the loss of a dear friend of Vito's a while back. (Rated M for language, drug/alcohol references, violence and sexual content.)
1. Chapter 1

Vampire Bay

Prologue

In the middle of the night, I had the sudden urge to leave my home and venture out into the city in search for someone. I don't exactly remember what drove this urge, but I could have sworn that there was a voice which spoke to me in the deepest depths of my slumber, telling me to walk down to the dockyard as soon as possible. I didn't understand it, but didn't bother to question it. I simply awoke, got dressed and ventured out. Why ? Well, I couldn't go back to sleep.

In the middle of the night, I had the sudden urge to leave my home and venture out into the city in search for someone. I don't exactly remember what drove this urge, but I could have sworn that there was a voice which spoke to me in the deepest depths of my slumber, telling me to walk down to the dockyard as soon as possible. I didn't understand it, but didn't bother to question it. I simply awoke, got dressed and ventured out. Why ? Well, I couldn't go back to sleep.

I drove to the dockyard at about five in the morning. Perfect timing. None of the workers were out at this time, hell, why would they be? Just as I arrived, the cops had just left. It was a mission accomplish, I do say so myself.

I parked my car by the building near where Derek's office used to be. Looking up at the balcony at the top of the staircase leading up the wall, I remembered the day I killed Derek and avenged my father. It was a gruesome task, and there was much toil involved, but at least I felt complete afterwards. The fat bastard was dead, and he was sure to never bother anyone ever again.

Cautiously, I left my car and walked towards the dock, which extended out onto the lake that separated Empire Bay from the rest of the world. I always wondered what it was like to venture out further past the shore. I had never been anywhere else, except for Sicily. Some days, I wished I could go back, not for war, but for break from all the hectic hustle and bustle of Empire Bay.

In the midst of my reminiscing, I walked along the dockyard, trying to remember which one of the docks I was supposed to approach. If I remembered correctly, it was the longest one, the one surrounded by cranes used to life up cars. That was the one I would definitely try looking for.

Once I made it to the dock, I felt my heart stop. Under the dying night sky, whose horizon was slowly being tainted by the rays of the crimson sun, which cast the reflection of its stars upon the frigid waters of the lake, I could make out the shape of the figure; a slender, tall man who appeared to be wearing a suit. He looked about the same as the man whom I continuously came across in my dreams, only this time, I was going to see him in full view.

I slowly made my way down the wooden path, in which my footsteps echoed across the bay. My pace was steady, as to not alert the man at the end. My heart raced hard enough to the point it felt like a sledgehammer was whacking me in the rib cage multiple times. Maybe, after tonight, the dreams would stop, and I'd gain some clarity.

Approaching him, I took a sharp, deep breath. Is this man the source of the dream that lead me here? Is he the one who ushered me to wake up in the middle of the night to wander out to the dockyard? Is he the one person I've been longing for this whole time, leading me to believe my own dreams? To follow them and find answers to a gaping void in my sanity?

There was only one way to find out.

The man had his back facing me, which prompted me to alert him. I was finally here, I finally followed the damn dream, now I wanted it all over with. And the time was now. I hesitantly raised my hand to his shoulder to grab his attention, but before my hand could even make contact with the mere fabric of his suit, their body slowly began to turn towards me.

Just when I managed to get even a decent look at the person's face, which was darkened by their own shadow, something seemed to prevent me from doing so. It was as if a movie had stopped just before the climax. Right when my eyes met the other man's, everything withered to complete darkness.

Chapter One

Let me tell you a story about something that happened in Empire Bay. You may think I'm fucking crazy, and you're probably right. But I know, deep down in the pit of my heart, that what I'm saying is the complete truth.

I fell in love with a vampire.

I know, I know, this sounds dumb already. Vampires can't fall in love, especially not with humans, right? Well, that's not the case. This one in particular was an odd egg, someone I knew before, but reunited with. It almost felt like I was living a recurring dream, or some kind of fantasy. Never, in my years of living did I ever imagine something like this would happen to me. But, neither did I ever believe that I would work for the mafia, but hey, I did. I lived possibilities that were never deemed possible.

I may have died, but I live to tell the tale. Did this story have a happy ending? Well, you'll see.

"Vito! Are you in there?"

I was suddenly shaken back into focus by the feeling of someone's finger tapping against my forehead. I blinked several times before shooing the mysterious hand away. The voice chiming into my inner thoughts belonged to none other than my best friend, Joe Barbaro.

"Where've you been? Did you get lost inside your own noggin?" he asked.

"Yeah, sorry," I replied. It wasn't rare nowadays that Joe caught me in a deep train of thought.

"You've been spacing out a lot lately," he added, "You haven't been smoking any dope, have you?" He said this with that same sly grin he always gave when making a cheesy remark.

Joe and I have been best friends for many years. In the mob business, I almost lost him several times. The last time I'll ever lose him was when Leo's goons drove him away in the deepest depths of Empire Bay. I don't want to go into details about what happened with that. Needless to say, I put in a good word with Leo to forgive Joe and I for the incidence that caused the war with Vinci, Falcone, Mr. Chu's guys and the Feds.

What needed to happen was that Joe and I had to help Leo start his own crime family. With a few phone calls, some "simple" tasks and some deals, Leo finally became a real don, and Joe, as well as myself, were made into the family, using the same ritual as before. It may have been a little bit different than before. We weren't immediately rich or swept away be fascination, and the family sure as hell wasn't big like the last one, but it was more intimate. I felt more loyalty, even though it was a huge adjustment.

I did, however, know one of the other guys in the mafia. Pepe. I was in the can with him, along with Leo. They both taught me how to fight and get around. Joe takes a liking to him. Sometimes, just for practice, they use Pepe's boxing gloves for random matches. I sometimes join in, too. But I have to say, Joe fights like a fucking gorilla.

It all seemed fine and dandy, especially with getting the family off the ground. Some of Falcone's guys were still out there. Clemente's? I'm not so sure. I'm positive that Joe and I wiped them all out in the Empire Arms Hotel with the explosive. As for Vinci? There may also be some other members out there somewhere. All I know is that we're not doing so good on competition with other crime families, especially since we just started and most of the people we know are either dead, in hiding, incarcerated or moved onto safer, comfier lives. However, that didn't stop us from making good money. I can't complain. We're in the drug cartel right now, and we haven't had to kill a single person. Well, we've had to use some scare tactics, but I haven't taken a life in what feels like forever.

Only, sometimes when I look at Leo, I don't see the same warm, paternal figure that I met in the can. Now, I see him as my boss, much like how I saw Carlo Falcone. Everything may have been all falling back into place, but there were still some pieces left open in my life that I couldn't fill. It seemed impossible to try to fill any of them, but it felt depriving to leave them open. Even though I had Joe back, and I was in a new crime family and really started to have things going for myself, there was one big gap that's been left empty for about a year now. Other than Leo and I growing apart somewhat, the others being gone, and not having a very luxurious lifestyle, I never forgot about someone.

Henry.

I remember like it as sharp as a fucking knife; the day that Henry was beaten to death for supposedly working for the Feds. We may have avenged him, but I got a major tongue-lashing from Leo out of it, and had to take on an entire crew of Carlo Falcone's goons in a planetarium. The tongue-lashing, and accusing Henry of being a Fed, this could all somehow tie in with me losing the fatherly respect for Leo. Even though he made a convincing case about the Feds, a part of me still refused to believe that Henry was a rat. And whenever he was referred to as a rat, I felt a tinge at my heartstrings. Especially since it comes out of Leo's mouth, whom was someone I trusted deeply.

Maybe, just maybe, the idea of Henry being a Fed was just Leo blowing off steam from the one time Henry tried to kill him. Luckily, I stopped that from ever happening. It was an embarrassing situation, since he caught us in the closet. Nevertheless, Henry had a good heart and let the poor man off. Leo skipped town so Henry could be made into the family, and it was settled immediately. Even though things were settled, I still couldn't shake the feeling that Henry's death was just a filthy act of revenge from Leo's part. It all made me sick to my stomach to know that two people I put my trust in, could have possibly both broken my trust, and I would soon have to pick a side.

It was as if December hit me like a ton of bricks. The downfall of each crime family happened just last fall, it seemed. Time went by so fast, with so little chance to actually notice how the weather and the people were changing. Before I knew it, another winter hit us. Only this winter was colder, and more depressing. I remember several years ago, I had come back from a war in Sicily, and the winter wasn't nearly as bad as the one this year. With a worse winter, there was more lethargy it seemed.

Due to my pensiveness, Joe blew a large gust of smoke in my face from his cigarette. I waved the smoke away, coughing. I didn't smoke that much anymore either, and when I did, I would nearly cough up a lung.

"Christ, you've become a fuckin' rookie!" Joe began. He opened up a cigarette case and held it out towards me. "Here, take one."

"No," I replied, raising my hand, "but thanks for the offer."

"Suit yourself," he shrugged, putting out his current cigarette to smoke another. I sighed, looking around the restaurant. Freddie's Bar was not much different, and it was great. It was another familiar thing to hold onto dearly.

On the other hand, Joe didn't seem too different, regardless of our experiences in the past. I suppose he was another gem I could hold onto.

"I'll definitely go for a drink, though," I added, reaching for the bottle of scotch on the table. I poured some into my glass until it was half full, which was my ideal amount. My smoking and drinking habits subsided after a year. A year ago, I could drink more than half a bottle of scotch. Now, whenever I drank one glass, I felt lethargic.

I took small sips while Joe knocked them back. The taste of scotch settled in the back of my throat with its bittersweet burning sensation. I watched as Joe tossed back his drinks without a care in the world, seeing as how content he looked when he did it.

I wanted to tell Joe about the recent dreams I've been having, the ones about meeting with the strange man at the end of the dock, and never getting a chance to see his face. However, I didn't know how he'd react. Perhaps he'd just pass it off as something more to laugh at, as usual. Still, I needed to get something off my chest.

"Hey, Joe," I began, "Have you ever had a dream that just repeated itself every night?"

Joe put down his glass and licked his lips. His brow furrowed, showing how hard he was trying to think in regards to my question. He gave a steady hum before opening his mouth.

"No, I don't think so," he answered. "But boy, what would I give to have a never-ending dream about being rich and going steady with loose women, you know what I'm saying?"

"You already have that," I answered.

"Point made!" Joe laughed. "So, why'd you ask me that?"

"It's just that," I began, "I've been having the same dream. It's been going on for about a year, now. I'm just wondering if I'm the only one."

"What?" Joe gasped. "A whole fuckin' year with the same dream? You've gotta be shittin' me!"

"I'm not shitting you," I answered. "It's the same goddamn dream, night after night. But here's the catch: there's no ending. It always stops the same place each time, making me even more curious. It pisses me off, and I've gotta get to the bottom of it."

"What's it like?"

"What?"

"The dream? What's happening in the dream? Is it a sex dream with no climax?"

"No, idiot," I replied, "It's… I always end up in the dockyard outside of where Derek's office used to be, and there's this guy who's sitting there, staring at the water. I always go up to him, and he turns around, but before I can get a good look at his face, boom, the dream ends there. And then I wake up, wondering what the fuck it all means."

"Shit," Joe responded. "That does sound a little fuckin' confusing."

"I just need to get to the bottom of it," I clarified, "I need to find out what the hell's causing this never-ending bullshit."

As I stared down at my glass, I couldn't help but hear the radio near the bar. I didn't care much for the news nowadays, but what I managed to hear gave me a sense of curiosity.

I heard people gather around the bar with the same curiosity. Only, I didn't turn around, but could make out the clutter of voices near the radio. Someone turned up the volume, and within the cracking feedback through its speakers, I could hear the news reporter babbling on and on about something strange, which caused silence and bewilderment to fall upon the people at the bar.

"_This just in!_" the reporter began. "_Recent cases of murder, and possible cannibalism, have been spotted around Empire Bay. Random deaths have occurred, but not just any death. Not caused by the mafia, robberies or arson, but something that could be supernatural. According to the authorities, victims have been left in alleyways or in other dark places, and have been found with color drained from their flesh as well as two small puncture wounds in their necks. I don't know about you, but to me, this sounds like the work of a vampire!_"

With the word "vampire", people all around the bar gasped with sheer terror and confusion. My own curiosity began to stir, but I tried not to react. This seemed too good to be true. However, I continued to listen.

"_Authorities and church officials are warning people to take precautions. Hang garlic cloves around your doors and windows. Concoct holy water, and sprinkle it around your property while chanting excerpts from the Holy bible. Nail a cross to your front door. Gentlemen, in order to protect your families, keep guns with silver bullets around, and be sure to carve stakes out of wood. The streetlights will be kept on at all times, in order to avert the possibility of another vampire attack. Don't be out at night, and set a curfew for yourself and loved ones. Once the sun sets, return to the safety of your home immediately. Police will be patrolling the streets from this night on, and anyone seen wandering around at night will be arrested and taken in for interrogation. Any nighttime pedestrians will be assumed vampire-associates, and will be questioned on the whereabouts of any vampires or suspicious findings. There's a possibility these people may have also been bitten, so they will be detained in a twenty-four hour period. Don't end up like this, so follow the rules. The authorities will crack the whip hard on the local curfew from now on._"

I shook my head as I heard more people get riled up about the whole vampire nonsense. I looked up and noticed that Joe's expression was painted with concern.

"You really believe this shit?" I asked.

"I dunno, Vito," Joe hesitantly explained, "The guy on the radio sounds kinda urgent, don't you think?"

"Oh, please," I retorted, "It's a load of bullshit. Vampires don't even exist, so how can this possibly be true? Someone's obviously pulling a prank. Either this is just a scare to push peoples' limits and see how idiotic the human race really is, or these are real murders disguised as supernatural incidents."

"Are you callin' me a dumbfuck?" Joe asked, giving me the most shocked expression.

"Well, I'm not callin' you a smartfuck, that's for sure."

Joe rolled his eyes, and continued to listen to the radio. I tuned out, not caring to hear anymore on the matter. Now, the news reporter was talking about some other bullshit that I had no interest in.

I continued to replay the dream in my head again, wondering who the hell stood on the dock those many times. What kind of subliminal message was I receiving from all of this? This was going to become more trouble than It was really worth.

After an hour more of spending quality time with Joe, we finally ventured out into the cold. He offered to drive me home, but due to how badly he was slurring, I offered to drive him home instead. Once he was at his own apartment, I drove to mine. The afternoon went by fast, along with the winds that whipped the snow about. I watched from my apartment window at the pedestrians passing by, the gusts knocking them about, nearly off their feet. I saw one or two people slipping around on the sidewalk, grabbing onto one another for support.

About a year ago, after joining up with Leo, I finally got a chance to leave behind Marty's old apartment and move into my own. It wasn't a villa, which I really wanted, but if it didn't belong to a dead teenager, I was content.

The wallpaper was intact, and there was carpeting. The last tenants forgot to take their pinup girl posters with them when they left, but they made for good decoration. I had furniture of my own, except for a couple of Joe's old couches. But there was not a single thing I took that originally belonged to Marty's apartment. That was a place I'd leave behind forever.

I cracked open a bottle of cola and kicked back in a comfy chair while listening to the radio. I tuned it just right to the station I wanted and listened to some good old Dean Martin's "Ain't That a Kick in the Head". But once the song finished, the same annoying news reporter's voice appeared on the radio once more.

"_This just in!_" he exclaimed. "_A police officer has been found dead by former dockworker, Federico Pappalardo's dockyard. When asking the dockworkers about the death, none of them had answers as to how the police officer ended up dead._"

Out of curiosity, I turned up the volume. Death of a cop, huh? I guess competition was coming back for the mobs in Empire Bay.

"_The police officer was found with two tiny puncture wounds in the side of his neck near his jugular, and his skin was bereft of any color! You guessed it, folks! Another vampire attack!_"

Out of an annoyed impulse, I changed the station, wanting more music, and no more of this vampire bullshit. If I heard another word about vampires, I would seriously lose my shit. I enjoyed _Nosferatu_ when I was young, but did that mean I believed in vampires? It sure as hell didn't.

The current station played some calming music. I didn't mind it, so I kicked back and took a sip from my cola. The carbonated substance perked me right up. The day was slow and uninteresting, so it made me grow somewhat tired.

Of course, the cola didn't work wonders like I thought it would, since in the middle of reading a newspaper, I fell asleep in the couch, and it wasn't even nighttime!

Once more, the recurring dream took place. Midnight, dockyard, cold weather, oh, and that mysterious guy that never turned around. I thought at this point I'd have complete control over the dream since I knew exactly what happened. But it just replayed like an old record that was starting to become tasteless.

I woke up to the sound of the phone ringing. I sat up and stretched my arms above my head before rising to my feet. I made my way towards the phone and answered it.

"Hello?" I greeted, my voice taking on a gravelly tone.

"Hey, Vito!" It was Joe. "Say, wanna come down to the cathouse and join me 'n Eddie? It's not fun wit' jus' the two of us!"

He was clearly drunk, it sounded. And just earlier he was buzzed from our afternoon at Freddie's Bar. I didn't want to know what he looked like now.

"I think I'll pass," I declined. "I'm not up for it. Besides, it's still noon." Or was it?

"Vito, you shittin' me?" Joe laughed. "It's never too early for a good time at th' cathouse!"

"Like I said, I'm not in the mood." It'd take more than that to get him off my case.

"You sound like an old fuckin' man!"Joe laughed. Behind him, I could hear the sound of women giggling, and what sounded like Eddie laughing with them.

"Joe," I sighed. But I didn't get an answer from him. Instead, he decided to leave the phone sitting there while he began yelling to the others in the cathouse.

"Hey everyone!" I heard Joe holler. "Ol' grampa Vito ova' here doesn't wanna join Eddie an' I in a lil' fun wit' all you crazy whores t'night!"

I heard an uproar of laughter over the line as Joe called me out publicly. I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed in an irritated fashion. Wow, he really outdid himself this time.

Soon, Joe picked up the phone again. He was out of breath from laughing so hard. "Oh, oh man... sorry, Vito. I had to tell everyone you weren't comin'."

"Oh, I fuckin' heard," I replied. "Well, ol' grampa Vito's got some work to do, so you children can go ahead and have your fun."

"_Don't forget to have your warm milk, gramps!_" I heard Eddie scream from the background.

With that, I hung up the phone. I wasn't going to go to the cathouse tonight and become a third wheel or some designated driver. However, a thought struck me. What if Eddie and Joe tried to drive themselves home tonight, especially in this kind of weather? They couldn't stay at the cathouse forever, and they'd surely get kicked out at some point. I sure as shit didn't want anything bad to happen to them, and I was a better driver than those two.

I swallowed my pride, put on a coat and stepped out the door. The wind was calming down, but there was still ice on the road. I drove steadily towards the cathouse, where I saw Eddie's car parked out front. I parked mine in front of his and stepped inside.

There, I saw Joe piss drunk and trying to dance on stage with the broads. Only this time, he had his pants around his ankles. Eddie was sitting in the booth, girls surrounding him. One of them was stroking his chest, and the other one sitting next to him was running her fingers through his hair.

I made my way towards Joe, but was interrupted by Eddie's voice calling for me over at the booth.

"Hey, gramps!" he shouted, the girls surrounding him turning their heads my way. "Get ova' here! I got a small job for ya!"

Rolling my eyes, I wandered over to Eddie, who was grinning his spiteful grin as usual. I knew he was up to no good, and I damned myself for ever getting myself caught up in this bullshit.

The broads slid away from Eddie to give him room to lean over and fold his hands over the table. "I need ya to do me a favor. You up for it?"

"No, not reall―"

"Good!" Eddie interrupted. "'Cause there's this lil' whore..." He paused to belch before continuing. "...she's sittin' ova there by th' bathroom... not doin' shit. Just sittin' there, bein' fuckin' lazy. I ordered a lap dance. But she ain't doin' nothin'... will ya go talk t' her?"

I sighed, shaking my head. "Fine, I'll talk to her. But don't get your hopes up."

I obeyed Eddie and walked towards the restroom area. Over near the womens' restroom, there was an empty table, and in that table sat one of the hookers. She wore her hair down, unlike others at the bar. She looked rather disheveled, which brought concern. I slowly approached her and noticed, even through the dim lights, that she was trembling.

"Hey, you alright?" I asked, slowly raising my hand to her shoulder. But before my fingertips even made contact with her skin, she jerked away suddenly.

"Don't... t-touch me..." she quaked. "Ple-ase..."

"What's wrong?" I asked, sitting in the chair next to her. I noticed that her skin was pale, and she was tugging at her choker. She began rocking back and forth, her breath shaken. I tried to look past her curtain of hair to get a better view of her eyes. I managed to see them enough to know she felt pain and terror.

"Did something happen? I asked once more. She seemed unresponsive at first, but her lips parted and she managed to utter just a couple words.

"I-I need... a hospital..." she stammered. "Now... it hurts... please..."

I didn't know the girl, but I looked around to see if Eddie and Joe were still there. Eddie was smoking at the booth, and Joe was waddling around on stage with his pants down. From the looks of it, one of the hookers got a hold of his belt and began smacking him with it. Two other hookers were standing around the stage, laughing and cheering on their friend, who was playfully whipping a very drunk, childish Joe who was trying to chase her.

I decided not to stick around, but to take the poor woman to the hospital. She willingly followed me, but before we stepped out the door, I put my coat around her shoulders and took her to my car. I kept my arm around her so she wouldn't slip and fall on the ice that caked the sidewalk. It must be hell walking in heels all the time, so walking on ice must have been far worse.

On our drive to the nearest hospital, I noticed she wrapped herself tightly in my coat. She was still trembling, even though the heater in my car was turned on. Without my coat, I was still roasting. I peaked over every now and then to take a look at her. Her skin seemed to be getting paler since the time we left the cathouse. It wasn't just her skin, but her lips too. This wasn't the kind of paleness that someone experienced when sick, but a different kind. Much like she was dead.

"We'll be there soon," I assured. "It's just down the road."

She nodded hesitantly, her breath becoming more shallow. Slowly, she began rocking back and forth in an uncomfortable manner. I didn't know what I was going to tell Eddie, but surely he'd be pissed.

Once we made it to the hospital, I helped the woman out of the car and walked her to the door. I walked inside, and immediately, a couple nurses made their way over to take a look at her.

"Where did you find her?" one of them asked.

"She's a worker at the cathouse," I answered. "I found her there. She's not feeling so good. It might be some flu."

"We'll take good care of her," another nurse replied. I let the woman keep my coat, since she needed it more than I did.

I walked back out to my car, the weather immediately nipping at my skin. I drove back to the cathouse as fast as the roads would allow, the heat finally kicking in. I hoped Eddie wouldn't be too disappointed. Well, he was plastered, so I doubted he would be able to feel anything _but_ plastered.

I made it back just in time to see the owner of the cathouse frantically pushing Joe and Eddie out the doors of the building. I cursed under my breath and stopped the car right in front of the cathouse.

Joe had slipped on some ice and fallen flat on his face when pushed out of the door. He still had his pants around his ankles, so when he fell, his boxers were exposed, prompting Eddie to laugh maniacally at him. I stepped out of the car and walked towards the cathouse owner.

"Hey, he warned, "the cathouse is closed. Those two idiots trashed the bar and caused a commotion."

"I'm sorry," I began. "They're my friends. They can get kinda carried away with the sauce. I just got here a second ago."

"Well, those two idiots need to be driven home, or to rehab," the owner growled. "Thanks to them, I'm gonna have to clock in overtime to get the place straightened up. You're gonna have to take care of 'em for me. And I _don't_ wanna fuckin' see them here again!"

I nodded before turning to Eddie and Joe. As I was talking to the owner, Eddie had been trying to help Joe pull his pants back up, but was failing miserably.

"My balls 're cold, Eddie..." Joe whined. "You gotta warm 'em up for me, buddy..."

"Jesus H. Christ," I groaned, "you two are a fuckin' mess. Let's get you home."

After a painful, annoying ride with the drunkards, I got them home and drove myself back to my apartment. As a matter of fact, I didn't drop Joe or Eddie off at one or the others' homes, but instead, I dropped both of them off at Joe's apartment where they'd be able to party and be their wild selves.

"Home sweet home," I exhaled as I shut the door and collapsed on my own couch. I hated being a chauffeur, especially for drunk assholes who spent evenings and afternoons drinking, trashing bars and scaring prostitutes.

Still, I couldn't keep my mind off of the one broad in particular at the cathouse. The way she trembled, stammered and swayed. The way her skin became pale and cold was concerning. I began to reflect on the many times I heard about vampires on the radio; pale, cold skin and puncture wounds on the neck. I noticed how the broad had been wearing a choker. Of course, it was common to wear such a thing with lingerie.

What was I thinking? It wasn't possible that she was a vampire. I mean, her skin was unnaturally pale, since it was the time of the year where everyone was sick. That, or she could have been having a reaction. There was no way in hell that she was a vampire.

That night, I lay in bed, my thoughts swirling around like a frantic whirlpool. So many things were stacking up; the recurring dream, Joe and Eddie's heavier drinking fiascoes, getting used to the new family, and on top of that, rumors of vampires circulating. Now that this whole new rumor was spreading, I probably wouldn't be getting much sleep due to the unnecessary police cars whirring around at night in search for possible suspects.

Well, there goes my nighttime walks.


	2. Chapter 2

Vampire Bay

Chapter Two

The next morning, I awoke to the shrill sound of the telephone ringing. Right then and there, my dream was interrupted in that exact same spot. It didn't matter anymore if I woke up naturally or interrupted, that dream would still stop in the same damn place.

Regardless, I hoisted myself onto the edge of the bed and rose to my feet. Tiredly walking towards the phone, I gingerly picked it up and put it to my ear.

"Hello...?" I mumbled, rubbing the side of my face, my eyelids failing to stay open.

"Vito!" A man's voice shouted through the phone. "This is Eddie. Listen, some serious shit went down last night. I need you over at Freddie's Bar as soon as possible."

"What, did you vomit all over one of your designer suits on your way through the door?" I asked. "Oh, oh no wait, let me guess; you saw Joe in your house with his pants around his ankles and thought you sucked him off. Yeah, that's it. You know, I drove you and Joe home last night. I saw what kind of shit went down. Joe made a fool out of himself and you trashed the bar. I had to talk the owner out of pressing charges, so I doubt there's anything more that could have possibly happened."

"I'm fuckin' serious!" Eddie exploded. "Okay, okay. Just listen to what I've gotta say, will you? Remember that one whore at the bar? The one you took out of the cathouse?"

"The... one who refused to offer you her services, right?" I clarified, scratching the back of my head. I had a bad feeling about this.

"Yeah! That bitch!" Eddie answered. "Well... I can't say this shit over the phone. You need to get your ass down here immediately."

"Fine, fine..." I muttered. "Do I need a piece?"

"Real fuckin' funny," he growled. "Just get the fuck over here."

The line went dead, so I hung up the phone, bathed and got dressed. Immediately after, I drove to Freddie's Bar and parked my car out front. Eddie's car was there, and so was Joe's, only his was parked lopsided. I sighed and got out of my car, walking inside Freddie's and straight towards the same table on the top floor that the gang usually gathered to.

Lo and behold, Eddie was sitting there, along with a very grouchy Joe. I sat next to Joe, and looked straight at Eddie, who had his fists clenched upon the table, looking down at his coffee. Joe, on the other hand, sat hunched over with his elbows pressed against the table, and his chin resting in his hands. I noticed his expression; his eyes were bloodshot and half open with dark circles under them. I waited for Eddie to say something, but he kept staring into the darkness of his coffee.

"So, Eddie..." I began. I folded my arms against the table and waited for his response. "Enjoying that coffee?" It was a dumb question to ask, but I needed to break the ice a little bit. The silence was uncomfortable, and the growing tension was palpable.

Suddenly, he sat back against his side of the booth and slowly rubbed his face with his hands. I patiently waited for him to speak, but knew that whatever he was about to say would be hard to get out.

"The whore from last night..." He finally spoke after a moment or two of dead silence. "Vito, where did you take her?"

"I took her to the hospital," I answered, "because she looked sick. Her skin and lips were pale and cold, and she couldn't stop trembling and rocking back and forth. I thought she was having a health problem or a bad reaction."

"Uh huh..." Eddie replied, leaning back into the table. He looked straight at me, licking his lips. "You said, pale lips, cold to the touch, right? Was she wearing a collar?"

I groaned loudly before combing my fingers through my hair. I knew what he was about to say in regards to her collar, and immediately, my blood began to boil. "If we're talking about this recent vampire bullshit, I'm gonna walk right out of the bar, I swear to God."

"Vito, this shit is real, alright?!" Eddie exclaimed. In the distance, I could hear the radio from the bar. Once more, the news reporter's voice rang through the crackly radio speakers.

"They're doing a recap of it right now," Eddie began. I directed my attention over to the bar, where people gathered around to listen. The sound of the news reporter's voice was beginning to nauseate me already. The bartender turned up the volume so the news could be heard above the frantic murmur of the crowd.

"__This just in!__" the reporter chimed. "__Last night, at approximately 7:38 P.M., church officials were given custody of what seemed to be a prostitute working for the local cathouse. She was dropped off at the Empire Hospital about half an hour beforehand. Doctors said she was suffering from pale, cold flesh, and when they removed the choker from her lingerie, she appeared to have two small puncture wounds on her jugular. In the hospital's care, she begun having fits of anger, so church officials were called in to look at her. She was then driven to the nearest church, where she soon died a painful death upon being baptized at 8:13 P.M. The owner of the cathouse, as well as all of the broads working there will be interviewed as soon as possible on the whereabouts of the woman beforehand, and if they too had been affected the same way. Also, anyone who had been with this broad in the past week will be investigated by authorities and church officials.__"

Once again, the people at the bar, as well as those around within earshot, began raising their voices, and the clutter seemed to nearly cause a nervous uproar. Luckily, the bartender hushed the crowd with the announcement of drinks being half the price. Once the commotion had settled, I looked back over at Eddie, whom had slammed his hands upon the table and began his tirade again.

"You got one of my best girls __killed __last night, Scaletta!" Eddie exploded. "You put her in the hands of fuckin' church officials! Jesus H. Christ, do you even pay any attention to half the shit around you, or is your head __that __far up your ass?!" Only when he was extremely pissed, he addressed me by my surname.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" I began. "I didn't get __anyone__killed, alright?! I thought she was sick, so I took her to the fuckin' hospital! You'd do the same too if you saw somethin' fuckin' weird goin' on!"

"I told you to tell her to get her shit together," Eddie replied. "She could'a been fine if you gave her a smack on the ass. She gets paid to do her job, so she's supposed to do it. Sick or not!"

"She's just a human, for fuck's sake!" I sighed angrily, my back making harsh contact with the leather booth behind me. "Look, I don't believe in the whole vampire shit. At first glance, I assumed she was having a reaction, so taking her to the hospital seemed like the best thing to do."

I inhaled slowly, mustering up the courage to say exactly what was on my mind, even if it meant that I would piss off Eddie. "You know what I think? This whole vampire rumor is just a hoax, a scare, only somethin' idiots believe."

"So, you're calling me an idiot!?" Eddie exclaimed. "Who the fuck do you think you—"

"Well, jee," I interrupted, "I didn't think someone like you would believe in shit like vampires and ghosts and goblins and the scary Boogeyman that jumps out from under your bed at night to scare the shit right outta you. I never saw you as the gullible type. If I'm correct, your hooker probably __was__suffering from a bad reaction or illness, but died in the hospital. The whole vampire thing is a hoax, Eddie! _You_ need to get your head outta your ass!"

"Vito, just shut the fuck up for a second." Eddie tried to squeeze in some more excuses on the matter, but I wasn't going to let him sit there any longer and tell me that I was wrong. He was the gullible one, as well as everyone around me.

I slammed my hands against the table and stood up, leaning over to where my face was just inches away from his. "Vampires! Don't! EXIST! End of story!"

With my exclamation, silence fell upon the entire restaurant with a few gasps here and there. I stood up slipped out of the booth, but was stopped by Eddie's voice.

"You're gonna regret talkin' back to me, kid!" he shouted, just as I began to leave with a path of doubtful eyes following me.

I stormed out the door, wide awake, pissed off and in need for some coffee in this shitty, cold weather. I cursed under my breath; I cursed at Eddie, I cursed at the weather, and I cursed the fact I only woke up and drove to the bar to deal with unnecessary conflict. All around, I was surrounded with gullibility and idiocy, and had no time or patience for any of it, since I had my own problems to tend to. I cursed the entire vampire rumor, since it was going to drive everyone crazy. My skin crawled at the entire idea, but what made me more annoyed was the stupid fucking dream that kept leaking into my mind, the same dockyard, the same guy in the same tuxedo under the same moonlight. It sparked a curiosity in my mind that I just couldn't lay a finger on. The dream itself seemed too real, it's as if I really did keep waking up in the middle of the night to visit that same place. Maybe, just maybe, I was meant to go there. Maybe I'd find some answers.

I usually didn't take dreams seriously, since they were only illusions that occurred when asleep. I was continuously told that when a dream was recurring, it wasn't a dream more than it was a message, maybe sent by someone, a loved one perhaps, someone whom I longed for. My mama, before she died, always told me about dreams she's had of returning to Sicily, to escape from the poverty my father brought us to. She longed for her home country, dreamed of sailing back with my father, Francesca and myself. It was recurring, so it seemed. For a bedtime story, when Francesca and I were children, she would tell us the dreams she's had of returning. How she longed for the ship to release everyone onto shore, to finally see the natural, European landscapes instead of the run-down, American ghetto. To finally smell the fresh air, instead of the heavy gusts of charcoal burning from the nearby factories. To finally see the sunlight, instead of clouds of smog. To finally live in a comfortable life, and have money in the bank, rather than sitting in a tenement and counting whatever penny she was able to scrounge for. She spoke highly of Sicily, and compared all of its natural beauty to the man made chaos in America. Francesca remembered Sicily more than I did, for when Mama spoke of it, she also reminisced and became misty-eyed. I remembered it vaguely, but I too wanted to go back. Only, none of us had any choice.

Only, this was a dream that never came true, since it was never pursued. Maybe, there was some kind of consequence to not pursuing a realistic, recurring dream enforced by a deep, prolong wistfulness. Maybe, it was all a message. However, one question remained:

Who or what did I long for?

I didn't long for the dockyard, since that was a place I wanted to abandon, all because of my father's death. But I remembered the man on the dock. He was the only one out there. About a year ago, these dreams came back after Falcone's death, but how did these symbols correlate with that situation? Did I long for clarity in my father's death? How could that be, when I already found clarity in killing Derek?

That night, I decided to wait until the sun fell, the streets emptied of gullible idiots trying to save themselves of supposed vampire attacks, and take my car out for a ride to the dockyard.

After finishing up my coffee and newspaper, I slipped on something warm and made my way out to the garage to retrieve a car given to me by Joe. I started the ignition, which took a few moments to do because of the cold. When it was finally started, I drove out of the parking lot and down the road.

Upon nighttime, the air seemed to become chill, which caused the roads to practically crystallize. I had to drive extra slow, and refrain from putting too much gas into it. The tires were somewhat worn out, since the car I drove happened to be one of Joe's cars that he hoarded from the forties era. It wasn't necessarily in the best shape.

Nevertheless, I drove towards the dockyard, the snow beginning to fall heavily. I switched on the windshield wipers, but it didn't make much of a difference, since the windows were fogging on the inside from the heating. Every ten seconds, I had to extend my arm forward and wipe away the fog-buildup, which proved to be annoying while trying to drive on ice.

As I was coming close to the dockyard, since I could see the construction and buildings from the distance, I heard a shrill wail burst from behind me. Following the wail was a pattern of flashing blue and red lights, which continued to follow me close behind.

"Ah, _shit_!" I cursed, slowly pressing down on the brake pedal. My car came to a gradual stop, as well as the car behind me. The wailing soon stopped, but the flashing continued. I sighed and stepped out of my own car, raising my hand over my eyes to shield them from the blinding lights of the cop car.

Soon, a police officer approached me, shining a flashlight. I didn't see the necessity of the flashlight, but I decided to choose my own battles.

"What seems to be the problem, officer?" I asked.

"Put your hands in the air where I can see 'em!" he ordered, a sudden aggression in his voice. I did as I was told, and raised my hands, but shut my eyes from the flashing car lights.

"State your name and business," the cop ordered again, his flashlight shining straight at me.

"Vito Scaletta," I answered, "and I'm a, uh, businessman." I sure as hell wasn't going to tell him that I was in the mafia, now was I?

"Not _that_ business, you dumb wop," he barked, "I meant, what business do you have driving around at night?"

"What business do you have asking me these fuckin' retarded questions?" I retorted. With that, the cop approached me up close and grabbed my arms, forcing them behind my back and cuffing my wrists together. He took me by the cuff of my jacket and dragged me into the cop car and shut the door. He stayed outside and pulled out a walkie talkie, and started speaking angrily into it.

I scooted close to the window to hear him more clearly. He seemed to have been talking to another officer on the other line.

"Yeah, I got another _nightwalker_," he began, "I think he might know somethin'. Yeah, I'm gonna take 'im to the station. He's a wop, and a fuckin' mouthy one too."

I sighed as he spoke lowly of me over the walkie talkie. It seemed as if the authorities were becoming more biased every time I came across one.

Only, there was one word that I heard, which brought me curiosity; nightwalker. What the hell did that even mean?

Before I knew it, the cop got back in the car, and immediately drove towards the police station. He kept the radio off, but his walkie talkie stayed on. I could hear every voice being transmitted over the speakers of his contraption. This was going to be one long ride for me.

"Alright, kid," the sheriff asked in a southern drawl, blowing smoke from his mouth, his beady eyes directed towards me. "Tell me; what the hell were you doin' drivin' around at night? You know there's danger lurkin' around the corner, right? Are you an idiot, or do you not speak enough English to understand what you've been hearin' on the radio?"

We were locked in an enclosed almost empty room, for the exception of a table and some chairs. The same officer who arrested me was in the room as well, standing by the sheriff, holding his baton close to his side.

I glared at the sheriff, before parting my lips to give an answer. "I was driving to the dockyard. What the fuck's the problem with driving around at night, anyway?"

"I told you he was a mouthy one," the cop butted in. The sheriff raised his hand to silence him. The sheriff looked down and picked up a folder before opening it. The folder happened to have my criminal records in it, which he looked through contently before puffing from his thick cigar.

"It says here, Mr. Scaletta," he began, "that in your first arrest, you were involved in a robbery of a jewelry store. You weren't sent to prison, but to Sicily in the war. Your second arrest, winter seven years ago, involved you stealing gas stamps and illegally distributing them among gas stations. Your original prison sentence was a length of ten years, but was shortened to six. No murders or acts of arson, just you bein' a dumbshit."

"What the fuck does this have anything to do with me driving around at night?!" I asked in an annoyed tone. This guy was really starting to piss me off. The way his beady eyes protruded into his fat skull, and how he took heavy puffs from that cigar, the smoke rising beneath his thick, gray mustache. This guy was the embodiment of everything that I wanted to drive my fist into.

"I guess you haven't heard, kid," the sheriff continued, "about the whole, ah, Nosferatu thing happenin' around Empire Bay. People are bein' found with bites on their necks, the blood drained from their skin."

"I don't believe in vampires," I sighed. "In all honesty, I think it's bullshit. I don't even see why you've all gotta parade around at night, trying to look for answers to this superstition that never existed, and never will."

The sheriff tossed my files down and withdrew the cigar from his mouth, putting it out in the ashtray next to him. The smoke rising from the ember slowly died away, and he set his hands on the table, entwining his fingers.

"It's just the standard repercussions," the sheriff admitted. "It shows us how much of a trouble maker you are, wanderin' around, and looking at your files just makes me want to believe in your idiocy even more. And what we're up against in this situation, is, not only a law-breaking moron, but an accomplice to something more hairy."

"What're you even talking—"

"Listen here," the sheriff continued, "The radio's been warnin' everyone about the recent vampire attacks, and whether you believe in vampires or not, they're comin' for all of us. Now, as far as I know, you were on your way to the dockyard, which was where one of our officers was killed just two nights ago. Not only are you wanderin' around at night, but you're interferin' with some hairy business. As far as we know, that vampire could be wanderin' around out there _right now_, and when you're wanderin' around with it, you look pretty damn suspicious."

"Does it look like I give a shit?" I retorted. "Do you have any physical proof of it? If you don't, I refuse to believe that vampires exist."

"And in sayin' that vampires don't exist," the sheriff interrupted, "just makes you look more suspicious. It makes you look like you're hidin' somethin'. I'd believe you more if you weren't mouthin' off about a serious matter. A matter that's taking innocent lives, and you're just sitting here, not givin' a damn. Wow, you really must be a moron."

"Call me a moron all you want," I replied, "but that still doesn't change the fact that vampires _don't_ exist, everyone in Empire Bay is a fuckin' idiot for believing it, and this whole ordeal is bullshit."

The sheriff crossed his arms and sat back against the chair. He glanced up at the cop standing right next to him, before glancing back at me.

"We've got no other option than to put you in custody of the church for a night," the sheriff began. "We've done enough investigatin' on you for one night."

"What're they gonna do?" I sassed. "Are they gonna baptize me to death?"

"_If_ you happen to be a vampire, or accomplice," the sheriff smirked, "then they might do just that, just as they had done with the prostitute last night."

The next thing I knew, I was taken by the cops to the church. I was forced inside, where other people were gathered. They were a hectic crowd, more hectic than the usual Sunday, but this was a different kind of hectic. Priests, pastors and missionaries loudly discussed the issue with vampires, and how to get rid of them. They even discussed burning said vampire in the middle of Empire Bay, like burning a witch at the stake. I rolled my eyes at their discussion, but moved along where one of the priests lead me to the alter, along with three other people, to be baptized.

"Before I begin the baptism," the priest started, "would any of you wish to speak on behalf of your wrongdoings as vampire-associates?"

No one said a word. I didn't see why we even had to. Nevertheless, the priest chose me to baptize first. I had no idea why, but I didn't complain. I just stuck to my beliefs; vampires don't exist, and I'm in no way associated with them, and the Lord loved me no matter what.

Once the baptism was complete, I felt utter annoyance boiling within me. However, I didn't die, which was a plus in my book. I didn't have to watch the other three baptisms take place, since after the priest and the authorities knew that I was clean, they sent me home with a simple warning.

I lay in bed that night, grumpy and exhausted, but I couldn't get much sleep. The anticipation was killing me. I was pissed that the cops got involved with business only I was intended to take care of, and that they were foolish enough to believe in such a stupid fucking myth. Still, I had to wonder, who was at the end of the dock before I arrived? I wouldn't have any idea unless I checked, but the cops weren't going to be nice about it, especially when a homicide was committed in the dockyard.

Finally shutting my eyes, I drifted off to sleep. Once again, I prepared for the same shit, but a different night.


	3. Chapter 3

Vampire Bay

I have it. I know exactly how to get to the dockyard without being caught.

The dream I had the night before, it was still the same. Only, the time of day was different. Like usual, I arrived at the dock, saw the man at the dock, approached him, got him to turn around to the point of the dream ending, only it wasn't under the moonlight. This time, the sun was rising above the horizon.

I remembered that the cops were patrolling at _night_. I had to find the perfect time to drive down to the dock, which was when the cops ended their shifts at the crack of dawn. That would give me enough time to wake up really early and drive down there to beat the cops before the night ended.

I devised a plan in my head for tonight. But, that would be a while. The day would surely feel long, considering I was anticipating for it to happen. I felt excitement stirring within me for what was about to happen, yet fear struck me with that same excitement. What if the man at the end of the dock was some kind of serial killer?

I shook the thought, and decided to go about my day. I ended up having lunch with Joe, but this time, no Eddie. I didn't want to even look at Eddie's face today. Not for a while actually. He's gotten on my nerves many times before, but this took the cake. It seemed like nowadays, Eddie just got more and more annoying. As a matter of fact, a lot of things were getting on my nerves, and a lot of people I used to have so much admiration and respect for were suddenly becoming dull in my eyes.

I still went to lunch with Joe, nevertheless. Still, I had to wonder what he was thinking the day before while we were at lunch with Eddie. He didn't say a damn word, but just sat there looking like a grouchy asshole. He must have been hungover, so I didn't blame him. Today, he seemed more lively, which was a relief.

"So, how've you been, Joe?" I asked, trying to make small talk. The last thing I wanted was for there to be awkward silence between us.

"I've been better," Joe answered, "But, I can't fuckin' complain."

"Somethin' up?" I asked. Usually, Joe was peachy keen about things, so it made me wonder what was up with him.

"Thing's 've been kinda slow-paced, Vito," Joe began, "When we were workin' for Carlo Falcone, we seemed to be always doin' somethin', killin' someone, you know, the works."

"I'm sure Leo's gonna have some work for us to do sometime," I assured. "There isn't much competition around, and with the other three families being obsolete, not much killing has to be done."

"My trigger finger has been itchy lately," Joe complained. "I just fuckin' wanna shoot somethin', ya know? Things may not have been simple back then, but hell, at least they were excitin'!"

"I know, I know," I sighed. "It's not as glamorous, but if anything comes up, we're gonna be ready. We're still getting the family business off the ground, so it's gonna be a slow process. In the mean, time, holster that trigger finger."

Joe sighed before drinking his beer. I had coffee, as usual. I always seemed to feel tired nowadays, with the restlessness of my dreams. Coffee was the only answer for my problems now, and not alcohol.

"Say, Joe," I began, trying to get another topic going, "Why do you still hang around with Eddie, anyway?"

"Why not?" Joe answered vaguely, taking another swig of his beer.

"I mean, Eddie was one of Falcone's guys, and Falcone's been dead for a year, so I don't see how he can even make business for himself. What does that poor bastard do anyway now that he doesn't have a boss?"

"Eddie's tryin' to start his own crime family," Joe began. "He was kinda, well, relieved that you offed Falcone. All Carlo did was boss him around, get him to do his light work, you know, the shit that underbosses are s'posed to do. But, he hated it. He likes being a full leader. So, it's not like he's doin' _nothing_, right?"

"That's not what I was asking," I sighed. "I'm asking _why_ you still hang out with him? No offense to you, but he's kind of a dick. More so than usual, actually. And there's no reason why you have to hang around him, since we're not part of the same family anymore."

"You're just pissy because he got on your ass yesterday," Joe grinned.

"Christ, that was the dumbest fuckin' argument I never knew I'd have to have in my entire life," I added with a head shake.

"Besides," Joe continued, "Why're you so antsy about hangin' out with someone who isn't in the same crime family as us? Just 'cause Eddie isn't in the Galante family with us, don't mean we can't have jolly good times! While we were doin' jobs for Falcone, you's and I were still hangin' around with Henry when he was still doin' jobs for Clemente."

When his name slipped past Joe's lips, I felt a strong pull in my heart. A sudden one, much like I was holding onto a rope, and someone suddenly tried to jerk it out of my grasp, and I had a last-minute grasp on it. It was painful, surprising, and left me without any words.

"Henry was good people," Joe finished, taking one last sip from his beer bottle before setting it back down on the coaster. "I still kinda miss 'im, Vito, even if he _was_ a rat."

"SHUT UP!"

Unintentionally, the exclamation escaped me as I banged my fist on the table. I didn't know how it happened, but the statement sent a strong volt of rage through me, prompting me to do so. My teeth were clenched, my jaw locked, yet I didn't know whether I screamed or not. I know I _did_, but it seemed like a mirage, since it happened so fast. Heat had risen past my neck into my face, and was now radiating off of me. My fist kept clenched on the table, my knuckles white with my nails digging into my clammy palm. The moment froze in time, leaving me stifled, stuck in my own mind.

Seconds after it happened, once I faded from my trance to get a look around, a few people from different areas of the restaurant turned to stare with startled expressions. I realized what I did, but I didn't realize the least bit that it was loud enough to startle anyone. It just happened, completely out of my control.

I looked up at him, an almost apologetic expression in my eyes. He had the look of fear and dismay in his own eyes, as if he had never seen me mad before. It would have been worse if I hadn't given just a little more last minute self-control.

"Joe," I began, my breath shaken, "I'm... that wasn't supposed to happen. Sorry..."

Joe blinked several times, looking down at me with sympathy and fear.

"We all grieve in our own way," he concluded, "but it seems like you've got more grievin' to do."

Maybe Joe was right. Maybe a year wasn't enough time to get over Henry's death. The past year was clouding up my mind to the brink of insanity. As a matter of fact, the events from the last couple of days were making it all worse. Bullshit upon bullshit stacked up, and it all seemed to not make sense or come together the way I expected. There was Joe being kidnapped by Vinci's henchmen, avenging my father's death, my own sister not wanting anything to do with me, killing Carlo Falcone, and facing the death of a dear friend. Just when I thought life before the mafia was shitty, well, it was a lot of drama in the long run. It was the same kind of misery, just, less poverty. It seemed as if Henry's death was what tied it all together, since the moment Joe pulled the strength, it all collapsed through a short burst of blind rage.

Still, I couldn't believe Joe came to believe the fact that Henry was a Fed. It was as if just a year ago, he had shot Mr. Wong out of pure rage from the fact that he accused Henry of being a rat. Now, he was siding with the other opinion, and that brought me to the brink of wanting to reach across the table to choke him. I was confused as well. What made his opinion change? Was it working with Leo and overhearing him? Did Leo show proof to Joe, but not to me? Or was Joe _that_ fuckin' dumb to believe bullshit like that so easily?

"You were so _pissed _when you killed Mr. Wong to avenge Henry," I began, "What made you change your mind...?"

Joe pulled a cigarette case from his pocket, clicked it open and slid a cigarette into his mouth. Flicking open his lighter, he burnt the end of it, the ember glowing with his intake of air. Slowly, smoke poured from his nostrils when he exhaled. He seemed to be looking off into the distance with a thousand-mile stare. He seemed to actually be thinking, for once.

"You've just gotta come to terms with some things, Vito," he replied, "I vouched for him many times in the past, but with what Leo's got, his sources and all, I've gotta give 'im props. As much as I liked the guy, Leo and Mr. Chu and all those guys have more knowledge and understandin' of everything more than Henry ever did."

There was the conflict; Leo. After all Leo had done, I couldn't just _not_ side with him, right? Then, there was the fact that dead men couldn't talk. It was impossible to get answers or the other side from someone who was already gone. Maybe, I just had to come to terms with it too, and stop beating myself up. Still, it didn't feel right, knowing I'm possibly believing a lie that caused someone's life to end.

"It's been a year," Joe concluded. "I'm still a lil' hurt from Marty's death, but ya know... shit happens, as Eddie says."

"Eddie says this, Eddie says that," I retorted, "Christ, what the _fuck _happened to you in the past year? You used to be a head-honcho, top of your game. You were your own man, formed your own opinions and plans, even if they were stupid. You didn't believe bullshit people handed to you, and killed those who wronged you or a friend of yours. Now, you've become fuckin' passive, believin' what people say, takin' shit and not bein' your own man. Joe, what the fuck happened? Please, tell me."

I didn't notice Joe's submission to everyone _now_. I've observed it for about a year. It was a slow deterioration. It was until this point where I had to come out about it. The old Joe I knew and loved was starting to slip from my grasp.

"I've just gotten used to the fact that the less likely I act like such a fuckin' hard-ass," Joe began, "the less likely people I love will get killed. Marty died because I made decisions for myself, because I was too stubborn. I got kidnapped for avenging someone I cared about, all because I shot up a restaurant and managed to get the blame pointed at someone else. I put you in the military because I made you rob a jewelry store with me. I continue to go to cathouses and get piss drunk, 'cause if I don't, Eddie guilt trips me, and..."

It was in that moment, Joe was revealing something about himself that he didn't notice until now, when he was finally beginning to explain it. He was revealing his faults, thus invalidating his own side of the argument. I saw the expression on his face, which had fallen into shame.

"I feel weak, Vito," Joe finished, "I want things to be the same. I wanna stop bein' submissive, bein' everyones' bitch, but it seems that when I'm not, I'm someone's worst fuckin' nightmare. I'm stuck, Vito. I'm stuck, and it's killin' me."

"Hey, hey, hey," I assured Joe, "maybe you just need a good killing, that's all. Something to boost your confidence, get your blood pumping a little."

"I've got the feelin' I'm rusty," Joe sighed, "The last thing I killed was my goldfish, six months ago, because I forgot to fuckin' feed it. A goldfish, Vito! A fuckin' _goldfish_! And I didn't need to take out no goddamn pistol. Fuckin' aye, I need another beer."

Joe pounded on the table to alert the waiter's attention. Steadfastly, the waiter made his way over to tend to Joe.

"I'll take another beer," Joe ordered, "Somethin' bigger, stronger, somethin' that'll knock me off my feet."

"Joe, drinkin' won't cure your problems," I began just as the waiter left.

"It'll take care of one fuckin' problem, I'll tell you that," he replied sorrowfully. "And that's the gaping void in my goddamn soul."

I sat there, realizing how a year's worth of nothing has taken its toll on Joe and I. Without the violent jobs, it left us with nothing to do but to think. To think about _anything_, and when we were given all that time to think, we were given the time to come to realizations about certain things. We come to conclusions, over-think, then piece together things that will just upset us, but we know are true. We used to keep our minds in focus and our bodies active, but nowadays, we kept our bodies in a slow pace, and let our minds wonder and cloud themselves with deep-seeded, shut-out ideas and memories that were stored away, not wanting to make contact with any of them in a sharp nick of time. Now, since we had all this time, we made contact with our hidden thoughts and emotions. And Joe's were starting to become apparent.

Unlike Joe, I didn't see any major differences in myself, except for the dreams. I got back in touch with people I associated with before I entered the mafia, and they said I had changed drastically compared to the person I was before I started doing real crime. I didn't feel like I had changed any. I tried to look at all my differences, but it seems like only the people who observe from different eyes, from different perspectives, tend to see the differences take place, whereas within myself, I don't notice anything since I'm inside, doing and not seeing.

"I hope this isn't long-lived," I sighed, staring down at my coffee, which didn't seem appealing to me anymore. "The whole, well, us being miserable thing."

Joe crossed his arms and shook his head somberly. "I hope so too, buddy." I finally got to get a good look at Joe, and I realized that he was depressed. And I thought I was sad about a bunch of things, but I felt like he was taking more of the beatings. Not just from Vinci (haha), but from plenty of losses. He exposed his emotions more than I had, since I knew better than to expose them in this line of business. From the amount of times he'd exposed his emotions in the past, he just got them shattered. Whereas, I concealed them all, and I didn't take as much damage. I may have been through more, but he'd been through harder, since he followed his heart and not his head. This left him bereft. I began to wonder if I was also bereft of certain things. Emotions? Well, I don't know. I didn't wear my heart on my sleeve, so I didn't know if I had many emotions anymore. I shut out so many things, that I'd forgotten than those many things may have existed, or still probably exist. There are a lot of things I can do to determine that, but I didn't know what exactly.

I took my coffee by the handle and slowly brought it to my lips to drink the rest of it. The taste was more bitter than before. Bitter as the afternoon, bitter like this conversation. Bitter like the feelings I had towards Joe after hearing what he had to say. Sure, I pitied him, but I damned him for not sticking his neck out anymore like he used to, letting others trample over him all because of things that were completely out of his control.

It's not like things hadn't just started to go downhill. It was a slow process, but now the bottom of the hill was just becoming clear. I may have begun to see the tip, but a whole year, and all the tolls it took, was the entire iceberg.

I peaked up at Joe's tired eyes, which used to hold so much life. I remembered the day he and I met. He was so charismatic, even when we were poor, when we had nothing but dust in our pockets and dreams in our hearts. Now, we had money in our pockets, and empty spirits. The cost of happiness wasn't cheap, I guess. Something had to give in order to be this well off, especially nowadays when you'd have to kill a man to get what you wanted. Was it really in turn for more happiness? Or a chunk of dignity? After the events of the past, Joe seemed like a prisoner within himself.

I was torturing myself by over-thinking this situation. Maybe Joe was just having the winter blues. Of course, these weren't signs of the winter blues, but I couldn't keep delving far into _his_ problems. Sure, I was concerned about the guy, but it seemed like sometimes I had to hold his ass up, when he should be holding it up himself. I'm not going to let his coffin rest on my conscience. Besides, I had more frustrating shit going on that I needed to work on. Still, I'd keep an eye out for him.

I wanted to mend the tension between us, but before my lips parted, Joe spoke up, surprisingly, even through his funk.

"Eddie's invitin' me to the cathouse again tonight," Joe began, "He says he's got some important business he wants to chat with me about. You in?"

"I'm gonna go home, actually," I finished, standing up and sliding my arms through my jacket. "I'm not in the mood for the cathouse, or Eddie, or anything at that."

"I understand, Vito," he sighed. The reason I didn't want to go to the cathouse, was because I didn't want to turn a fun occasion into an emotional outlet, much how Joe was doing. The last thing I needed was to do that, then have the cathouse become associated with my own misery. Also, I didn't see Eddie as a great role model, necessarily, so I didn't want to be another fly caught in his spiderweb. I wanted to warn Joe, but Eddie didn't seem like danger. He was just another friend Joe could talk to. Or another someone to drown his sorrows with. Or another crutch to hold his drunk self upon when stumbling out of the cathouse. All I knew was that Joe was just going to continue hurting himself the more he went. Nevertheless, I wasn't going. My misery would be released through a different outlet.

"You stayin' here?" I asked him, turning back around to face him.

"Yeah," Joe replied, "Eddie's supposed to be meetin' up with me 'ere."

I made the mistake of staring at Joe for a few more seconds. He looked so helpless, sitting there all alone with only cheap liquor, coffee and a flimsy lunch menu. I could see the misery ever so clearly on his expression, and with him sitting by the window, watching the snow fall heavily outside, just as heavy as my heart felt just watching him.

I needed to walk away, even though I didn't want to, I just had to. I couldn't let myself give in to his misery, when I had my own to worry about.

"I'll see you later, then," I muttered, hoping he would hear me. When I made my way out of the bar, it felt like someone had taken their hand, shoved it into my rib cage and began squeezing my heart slowly, applying more pressure. I inhaled slowly to fight back that growing pressure. I didn't want to think about what may have happened after I stepped foot out of the bar. I wondered, would Joe have started to cry once my back had turned? I wondered how badly he needed someone, even if it was me. In the midst of realizing how much I was needed, I began to wonder... how badly did _I need_ someone? Usually, I'm on my own, so I didn't worry about it. Still, was there a void? A disconnection? What did I need?

Suddenly, as I proceeded to walk along the icy sidewalk, I passed by a woman wearing a rather thick coat, her hair held under her hat. I took a glance at her, and before I knew it, when she was just inches away from me, she slipped on a patch of ice. With her arms flailing about, I managed to take a hold of her with steady hands. She was rather light, much like someone I knew.

Upon pulling her back onto her feet, she steadied herself by gaining her footing again, and placing a soft hand on my forearm. The placement of her arm felt oddly familiar, and it felt another sense of pressure within my heart again.

I looked down at the woman's face, which was hidden under her hat from my angle. I leaned over just a little ways to get a good look at her face, but she tried to push away lightly without a thank you. However, she wasn't quick enough, since I had already seen her. Those doe-like eyes, the fair, clear complexion, the light brown hair which hung in a ponyhair from beneath her hat. I knew exactly who this was; another soul I hadn't seen in a year.

"Frankie?" I asked in a hushed tone. When she heard me say the name, she stood there, stifled, and sighed, bringing a hand up to her forearm, stroking it shyly.

"H-Hi, Vito..." Francesca mumbled in her sickly sweet voice. From her tone, I could tell she was anything but happy to see me, and I understood why. But, I couldn't let her go, not again. Not after all this time apart from her. I may have lost several colleagues in the past, but I didn't want to lose my sister. She was a friend I regretted losing the most.

"How've you been?" I asked, resisting the urge to place my arm around her shoulders. Affection was probably something she didn't want just after a year of seeing me, and possibly still being mad at me, or scared shitless. Hell, I didn't blame her.

Francesca sighed, shaking her head slowly. "I-I've been good, Vito... thanks for asking..." Her voice was a lot quieter than I remember it being. She was always the quiet type, but this quietness sounded rather unsettling, almost painful. I detected a hint of mere sadness from her, and I wanted to find out way. Forgiveness or not, she was still my sister, and I still cared. She was one of the very few people I missed in my worst of times.

I didn't want to make her stand out in the cold of Empire Bay's streets, but I didn't want to let her run loose again. So much had been slipping through my fingers, and I didn't want her to be one of those things.

"Uh, hey," I began in a rather rushed tone, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "It's kinda cold out, Frankie. Why don't you and I grab a coffee or somethin'?"

Francesca let a soft, quivering sigh escape her lips, a puff of breath leaving too. She looked all different ways, except towards me. I felt as though she didn't even want to lay eyes on me.

"Sure, Vito..." she mumbled, lowering her head slightly. With that response, I guided her to a nearby cafe, located just a couple blocks away from Freddie's Bar, where I had left Joe.

"Things have been... kind of miserable since the last time we spoke, Vito..."

The waitress set a piping hot cup of coffee down in front of Francesca, who had her hands placed upon the table, her fingers entwined. I had ordered whatever coffee she wanted, since it was my treat. Well, anything to keep my sister sitting across from me.

"Tell me about it," I sighed, glancing down at her softly trembling hands. I heavily contemplated reaching out to caress her hands in mine, much how I did when her and I were younger, and her hand were always cold, or she was always nervous. I would share my own warmth, or comfort, to ease her. Now, I felt as though my touch would only bring her more anxiety, or more cold.

"So... what's been going on with you?" she asked, her eyes raising to meet mine. Only, she didn't look me in the eyes. Instead, she glanced over at an obstacle just behind me, giving herself something else to focus on. I felt like Medusa when she did this. She sat still like stone, seemingly though I had petrified her with fear.

"No, no," I replied, "You go first. I just wanna hear what's been goin' on with you. I'm sure, you've seen better days than I have. Ever since I last saw you, I've missed the hell outta you. I'm more interested in what you have to say."

Francesca shakily took the cup of coffee that sat before her, steam still escaping from the mixture within the cup. She steadily placed her lips upon the rip, and took a cautious sip. I stared into her eyes as she did so, and I could have sworn they began to glisten. Not with happiness, anticipation, or excitement, but with tears.

I wondered why she had become so misty-eyed, but I leaned back against my chair and observed her from a distant angle, as to not frighten her. Slowly, she set the cup down and parted her lips, inhaling shakily.

"W-Well, I..." she began quietly. I leaned in slightly to get a better understanding of what she was trying to say. I wouldn't force her to talk louder. I'd force myself to listen better.

After a brief pause, she continued, "I still have my job... as a secretary... still pays alright..."

"That's really good, Frankie," I added. At least she had something to be proud of.

"But..." she continued, "Eric and I, we..."

"He didn't hit you again, did he?" I asked, leaning in further with anticipation. She gave tiny gasp as I did so. I guess I must have been too abrupt.

"I... no..." she continued, her voice becoming more high-pitched and nervous. "He and I... are done... divorced..."

I wanted to tell her I was relieved, since I didn't like Eric in the first place. He was an abusive, junkie prick who I should have killed in the first place. However, the divorce was only something _I was_ happy about. I wanted to hear more of Francesca's input on the matter.

"So, uh," I asked, leaning back into my chair once more, "Why'd you split?"

"He just..." she muttered, "...he reverted back to his old ways... he didn't lay a hand on me, but... he started drinkin' again... dealing dope... and I..."

Francesca paused, her eyes glimmering, only more obvious now. This time, she was really trying to avoid eye contact with me. She reached into her coat pocket and grabbed a handkerchief. She brought it up to her eyes and began to dab at her lower eyelids. I felt ashamed, knowing my questions were making her cry.

She inhaled again, her break shaken and somewhat constricted. I wanted to reach out and hug her, but I needed to hear more of what she had to say. It had been too long.

"...I walked in on 'im..." she continued, her voice cracking, "... it was another woman... again and... that's not the worst part."

Her face contorted slightly, but he managed to get a hold of herself just long enough to peep out just a few more fragments.

"I... I was... I was gonna have his baby at the time... when I saw it happen..."

My heart skipped a beat. Did I hear her say "baby" just now? This couldn't be right. I was about to tell her congrats on the child, but I had interrupted her enough already. I anticipated more of the story from her, and more of the story I would get.

"B-But shortly after..." Francesca added, trying to dab away falling tears from her cheeks, a couple she failed to catch. "... I... I was in pain... lots... and it happened..."

My eyes fell to her trembling hands, which unfolded her handkerchief. I directed my eyes back up to her cheeks, which began to turn a soft shade of red, just like her eyes. Her tears steamed down her flushed cheeks in a river of murky gray. I swallowed back the same pressure in my throat and heart, just to hear what more she had to say. I already knew the pain she was describing, but couldn't bring myself to give my condolences.

"I... lost it, Vito... my baby..." she trembled, "... all because of him..."

I sighed, opening my mouth to give my apologies, but a pressure in my throat stopped me from doing so. There must have been more to the story. I needed to hear it all. Whatever it took.

"...I filed for divorce... after it happened..." she continued, taking shaken breaths between fragments. "I couldn't look at his face... he was so ugly... I couldn't take it anymore... bein' in the same room as 'im... his touch... his sight... scent... everything about 'im was so ugly... he looked like death. It was all I knew..."

Death was all I knew, too, I wanted to say. That wouldn't have been an appropriate approach to the situation, though.

"... he and I have been done for a little while now..." she stuttered. "I don't have to ever... see him ever... again..."

I wanted to tell her how happy I was, knowing she was divorced from that dickhead, but I didn't want to upset her even more, especially since she had lost a child in the process.

Suddenly, from the other side of the table, Francesca began to softly cry into her handkerchief, her small shoulders shaking gently. I heard tiny gasps escape her as she tried to muffle them.

"If there's anything you need, Frankie..." I began, reaching across the table to meet my hands with her wrists. "I'm here. Always."

I stood up to lean over and wrap my arms around her, but she somehow managed to withdraw from my near grasp. I felt a tinge in my heart when she did. Shit, was I about to lose her again? No, I couldn't. I can't let her slip away from me.

"Frankie..." I began sorrowfully as I stood before her, watching her slowly raise herself from the chair and turn away. I approached her, putting an arm around her trembling shoulders. "Frankie... Frankie, hey..."

She gasped shakily, turning her face away, not wanting to take a single look at me. I felt really bad, knowing I had probably just pulled something out of her that she was trying to conceal, much how I had done to Joe just earlier.

"I'm here, alright?" I whispered in the most comforting voice possible. "Please, don't push me away. I want to be your brother again, to be there before you, just like the old days. I want to protect you, to be a family again. I know we parted ways for a while, but we can't separate from each other. I know I did some shit in the past you must still hate me for, but... look, those things shouldn't matter anymore. Your demons are gone, so are mine. Everything should be okay, now. Please, Frankie... I can't lose you again."

Francesca looked up at me with glossy, tear-stricken eyes. Her mascara was a complete wreck, but this didn't change how I felt about her. The sentiment of this moment was strong. I may have my sister back, only if she lets me. I had lost too many people in the past. She was one of the only ones I had left.

"Vito..." she whimpered. "Let's... let's get out of here..."

She caressed her own forearms, hunching over uncomfortably as she looked around. She didn't like crying in public places, which was a tidbit about her that I remembered dearly. Leading her out of the cafe, I took her back out into the cold. She wrapped herself up within her coat, and I helped her place her hat on. I made sure it was on all the way. I sure as hell protected her from boys, but I also protected her from the harsh elements.

She proceeded to smear the rest of the tear-soaked make up from her blotched cheeks with her handkerchief. I held my arm around her shoulders momentarily before she willingly pulled away.

"Vito," she began again, "Thank you... for listenin' to me. Everything with Eric has just been so pent up for a while... thank you... for helping me get it out..."

"Anything for you, sis," I grinned, pulling her in for a soft hug.

"Uh... one more thing..." she muttered. "I'm really... truly sorry for pushing you away a year ago... I... I was just scared for you... what you were becoming... I just..."

"Shh, no, listen," I interrupted. "I was at a bad place there for a moment. I guess Eric was just beggin' to be a punching bag in at moment."

Francesca cracked a small smile. "I should'a stood by your side instead of his... I should'a known from the start he was no good, not you. Mama's death had taken a toll on me, and I know it had with you too. In you almost killing Eric, I didn't want to be reminded of any more death."

"Well... I guess it runs in the family, doesn't it?" I shrugged. "Nothin' anyone can do about it... but, we've got each other again. I guess that's more of a relief than anything."

She nodded as I held her tightly. My heart filled with sympathy towards her. I wanted to tell her what a year's worth of time had done to me, but I didn't want her to worry about my whole mafia business. Besides, it would have all taken hours to explain. I didn't have the time for that.

"Anyways," I proceeded, "Lemme take you home. I'm not letting my healthy sister walk the cold streets. It looks like Hell froze over, and you're not about to step in any of it."

After driving Francesca home, I began to rethink the entire afternoon. The day hadn't officially begun yet, and I already saw two of the most important people in my life fall apart right before me. I guess Joe wasn't the only one who wasn't suffering. It wasn't the mafia itself that had a weight holding down on everyone's shoulders. Even Francesca, with her recent divorce and loss of an unborn child. I may have felt pity for Joe in the shit he felt, but I was absolutely crushed by Francesca's ordeals. There was Joe with his self-inflicted misery, and Francesca with the loss of her own family, and then there was me; not many problems, for the exception of that damn dream.

Suddenly, the thought struck me. That dream. I wasn't going to forget doing down to the dock to solve this issue. Quickly, I pulled the sleeve up on my jacket to expose my wristwatch.

"Shit. Already three o' clock..." I muttered. Time really went by fast.

For the rest of the day, I found other ways to entertain myself and kill time, yet I continuously checked my watch. I couldn't risk getting to the dockyard just as the cops decided to swarm the streets at night. I had to start early, just so I wouldn't get caught like the last time. If they caught me again, they'd probably throw me in the slammer for no god damn sensible reason at all, and I wasn't about to go through that again.

That night, I set my alarm clock for four-thirty in the morning. That would give me time to get dressed and drive down there to meet up with this mysterious man.

I drove to the dockyard at about five in the morning. Perfect timing. None of the workers were out at this time, hell, why would they be? Just as I arrived, the cops had just left. It was a mission accomplish, I do say so myself.

I parked my car by the building near where Derek's office used to be. Looking up at the balcony at the top of the staircase leading up the wall, I remembered the day I killed Derek and avenged my father. It was a gruesome task, and there was much toil involved, but at least I felt complete afterwards. The fat bastard was dead, and he was sure to never bother anyone ever again.

Cautiously, I left my car and walked towards the dock, which extended out onto the lake that separated Empire Bay from the rest of the world. I always wondered what it was like to venture out further past the shore. I had never been anywhere else, except for Sicily. Some days, I wished I could go back, not for war, but for break from all the hectic hustle and bustle of Empire Bay.

In the midst of my reminiscing, I walked along the dockyard, trying to remember which one of the docks I was supposed to approach. If I remembered correctly, it was the longest one, the one surrounded by cranes used to life up cars. That was the one I would definitely try looking for.

Once I made it to the dock, I felt my heart stop. Under the dying night sky, whose horizon was slowly being tainted by the rays of the crimson sun, which cast the reflection of its stars upon the frigid waters of the lake, I could make out the shape of the figure; a slender, tall man who appeared to be wearing a suit. He looked about the same as the man whom I continuously came across in my dreams, only this time, I was going to see him in full view.

I slowly made my way down the wooden path, in which my footsteps echoed across the bay. My pace was steady, as to not alert the man at the end. My heart raced hard enough to the point it felt like a sledgehammer was whacking me in the rib cage multiple times. Maybe, after tonight, the dreams would stop, and I'd gain some clarity.

Approaching him, I took a sharp, deep breath. Is this man the source of the dream that lead me here? Is he the one who ushered me to wake up in the middle of the night to wander out to the dockyard? Is he the one person I've been longing for this whole time, leading me to believe my own dreams? To follow them and find answers to a gaping void in my sanity?

There was only one way to find out.

The man had his back facing me, which prompted me to alert him. I was finally here, I finally followed the damn dream, now I wanted it all over with. And the time was now. I hesitantly raised my hand to his shoulder to grab his attention, but before my hand could even make contact with the mere fabric of his suit, their body slowly began to turn towards me.

My eyes managed to finally make contact with the others, and what met my vision left me dumbfounded. The hair, those eyes, those cheeks, that jaw line. Every detail brought forth memories in my mind.

Just when they turned, the sun peaked above the horizon. It seemed to have come up unknowingly, in sort of a rush, but it was the perfect timing, for the man standing before me was the one I had longed so much for. The empty void in my heart had been replenished.

I blinked repetitively, then proceeded to rub my eyes as to make sure this wasn't another one of those cliffhanger dreams that left me with major déjà vu. The slight burn in my eyelids indicated that this was, indeed, real.

I parted my lips, a soft gasp passing through them, unable to make out any words once my eyes were set upon the man standing fully before me. My heart seized its frantic pounding, and I could only stare, my stomach tightening in knots from sheer excitement.

Through the other man's lips, he spoke one word. With his voice, it could bring anyone to their knees. But this wasn't just any voice, or any word.

"Vito," was the first word that he spoke. He didn't say my name sternly, but with that gruff baritone, he spoke my name with a sort of gentleness, a smoothness that I hadn't heard before. It was unfamiliar, but brought me comfort. The kind of comfort that filled the largest void within me.

That fulfilled void, the one who stood before me, was Henry.

So many memories, thoughts, and unanswered questions spiraled through my mind. I couldn't think of a proper thing to say in that moment, fearing I would break the ambiance set by this reunion. Panic filled my heart, and I wanted to scream. A man who I had just seen die was standing right in front of me. Confusing twisted my mind, trying to piece together reality with the premonitions. At the same time, a sheer happiness filled me, knowing that someone near and dear to me was standing here in front of me once more. My own emotions took over my mind, and my body, causing me to freeze with a transfixed expression of shock, horror and surprise. I felt a lump rise in my throat, my heart swelling from the different kinds of emotions that I never knew in my life I'd have to fight.

I felt that I looked just plain stupid, standing there idly, my mouth open and my eyes set blankly while every emotion I had bubbled inside me like a cauldron. Henry, on the other hand, appeared to not mind my dumbfounded expression. A small grin appeared on each sides of the corners of his lips. When I gazed upon his face, there was no blood, no wounds, no bruises, and no scars. He stood before me, as normal as before, as healthy as I had remembered him to be. It was as if him being battered to death hadn't happened at all, and he was lively the entire time.

His lips parted, and he spoke more in his token voice. "It took you long enough. About a year, perhaps? Maybe it just took you long to get the hint. No matters; you finally got the memo, and you're here. I guess miracles really do happen when you decide to follow your dreams."

Fighting the lump in my throat and the panic in my heart, I inhaled deeply, filling my lungs with as much air as I could in order to make out just one sentence.

"I thought you died," I finally spoke.

Henry's eyes fell upon my face with an expression with that of melancholy instead of amusement. I shut my lips and grit my teeth behind them, really fighting back that fucking lump. But Henry's expression made it so hard not to cry, especially since I hadn't seen him in a year, and his death was a real shock to me. I remembered his cries for help as the life was beaten out of him, the amount of blood that spilled onto the concrete from his wounds, and looking upon his lifeless face, which had once been chiseled and concentrated, had then been bruised, swollen and massacred.

Henry finally replied after a few moments of silence. "Vito, it's… it's a long story. I can't talk about it right now."

"Henry," I finally choked, "You were dead, I saw it. You were laying in a pool of your own fuckin' blood, not breathing, no pulse, no nothin'! Please, don't leave me standing here without answers."

At this point, tears were burning my eyes, and my throat was closing up. The same heartbreak from the moment I saw him die suddenly reopened. I couldn't let him go again, not when he was finally in my grasp.

Henry stood there, motionless, avoiding eye contact with me. I saw his bottom lip tremble slightly. He sighed, a somber expression written across his face, which made my heart twist in agonizing knots.

"I need to know, Henry," I finally spoke, my voice shaken and hushed. "I need to know what happened. I know I saw you die. And now you're standing here alive. What the fuck… is going on? Please, tell me. I need to know. And don't fuckin' tell me this is just another dream, because I won't be able to stand the pain when I wake up!"

With that, Henry caressed my shoulders, and stared at me with a prolong expression. Without moving my chin upwards to see him better, I raised my eyes, my gaze meeting with his. My vision blurred from the massive amount of tears building up within my lower eyelids as I bit my bottom lip.

"Vito, look at me…" Henry murmured, removing his hands from my shoulders in order to caress my face. His hands were frigid, more so than the weather which had bitten my cheeks beforehand. He tilted my head upwards so my face was aligned with his. He stared down at me with wistfulness, a profound longing that touched me more than his tender voice.

"I can't explain right now," he repeated, "I really can't." Pausing for a brief moment, he turned his head. I followed his gaze, and it lead right towards the sunrise. What was once just a strip of orange now transformed into a semi-orb of golden rays. The gradient of orange and crimson stretched across the morning sky, engulfing the stars.

Henry turned back to me, panic now filling his eyes instead of longing. "I really need to leave, to hide somewhere for a while. It's not safe right now. I can't risk putting you in any more danger than what you're already in. Every second I stand here, it could be a second to death."

"Henry, don't say that," I warned. Anything involving both Henry and death made me physically ill. "If you could just explain—"

"Shit, the sun's already halfway above the horizon," Henry interrupted. "I-I need to go, Vito." He detached his hands from me, his cold flesh still apparent on my cheeks. He ran around me, and sprinted down the dock. There was just enough darkness to cause his figure to disappear under the shadows of the construction.

"Henry!" I shouted, extending my arm in his direction. If only I could just reach out and pull him back, I would.

The gradient began to fill the sky even further, and in the same distance Henry had run off, I couldn't see him vanish, but I could see something flying overhead in his place, something dark, like a massive black bird with an elongated wingspan. A crow, or a raven perhaps? Only, this wasn't some bird. The wings were sharper, and it frantically flapped its way into the distance, trying to beat the sun's morning gradient and descend back into the darkness that whatever shards of the night could spare.

I was left on the end of the dock in complete confusion, throat burning from a strong sorrow that needed to pour out. The scar within me had opened up once more. If I had known Henry would just disappear like that again, I wouldn't have come out to the dock to see him. He had just opened up a wound that I took a long time mending, and he just came by and reopened it. What had I ever done to deserve that kind of bullshit?

I stood with my fists clenched at my side, my bottom lip tensing up. However, I choked back the eager emotions that awaited release. I decided to think back on the event, if it was real or not.

I remembered the dream; the dock, the figure at the end, the night sky. I understand now that the dream was trying to guide me to meet with him again. It was a sign, telling me that he was really alive and awaiting my arrival, to grant the opportunity to see him and make amends. That was the only part I could fathom.

But one question sat in the very depths of my mind; how? How in the world was Henry able to tap into my dreams? Especially for an entire year? How was he able to tell me he was really alive, and most importantly, _how_ was he alive? He died. I saw it. I was there. No jury can convince me otherwise. Henry had died right in front of me in broad daylight, in the middle of the park.

That was a question I'd have to wrap my mind around for the next few days, or the rest of my life. Or whenever I see Henry again... whenever _that_ was going to be.

From the way he immediately took off, I had a feeling I wouldn't see him for a while. I could never tell with that guy. Alive or dead, dream or reality, that man was a fucking mystery.

Emotionally drained, I headed back to my car. I slipped right in, starting it up and positioning myself in the front seat. Even though I was ready to go home, the warmth of the trembling car wrapped around me, and I didn't feel like driving home. I wanted to go home, yeah, but I didn't have the motivation to drive whatsoever.

Instead, I rested crossed my arms over the steering wheel, and placed my head down between them, my forehead pressed against the wheel. I shut my eyes, sighing miserably. The confusion had exhausted me, and knowing I had awoken at such an unreasonable time to come to the dockyard for just a brief moment of heartache gave me a great amount of grief and mental fatigue.

Before I knew it, I was fast asleep at the steering wheel in my car, my mind drifting off into its usual dreamlike state. Only, there was one thing that was different.

I didn't dream.


	4. Chapter 4

Vampire Bay

The next morning, the sun shone through my windows in a golden light, which shimmered in my eyes, waking my senses. I arose, and throwing my covers aside, I extended my arms above my head momentarily before making my way to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee. I had felt replenished from my sleep, unlike all the other nights before, where I had awoken unsatisfied with my mind full of confusion.

Adorned in a comfortable bath robe, I sat down on the couch to drink my coffee, read the paper and listen to the radio. The crackling voice of the weatherman over the radio hummed through the speakers.

"_Today, Empire Bay is expected a chance of snowfall varying from four to six inches. Temperatures will range from ten to twenty degrees, twenty-three being the highest. Remember to bundle up and drive safe, folks._"

I took a sip of my piping hot mug of coffee, the tender bitterness making its way down my throat, filling me with a scalding sensation through my chest and stomach. Just when I thought I could catch some relaxation from the warmth of the coffee, the scorching liquid actually triggered something else. It jogged my memory, struck my nerves, and made me realize something.

Hadn't I gone to sleep in my car last night?

With such a striking realization, all of my bliss had withered away, soon replaced with the bitterness I had been feeling over the course of almost a week. The thoughts, the emotions, the questions, they all flooded back.

And to think I had temporarily forgotten about the night before. Maybe I had actually gotten a good sleep for once, but that was because I didn't have the same dream. What had stopped my dreams all of a sudden? And most of all, how had I suddenly returned to my apartment?

My mind traced over the night's events. I remembered seeing Henry at the dockyard, and all of it came like a shock to me. The cold air that bit my cheeks, the sun strip just above the waters, what exactly I had worn, the expression on his face. My throat tightened as the mixture of confusion, fear and happiness returned. His presence engraved itself into my mind. I paid close attention to his face, even. I noticed something odd, and it was that there were no scars or marks from the incident in the park which had taken his life. I wondered how exactly he wound up with no trace of the murder. But most importantly, how in the world did he live? How was it even possible for him to meet me at the dock, even after I witnessed him die right in front of me? Maybe he got lucky...

Or maybe... it _was_ just another dream...

The mere thought struck me with anger, to the point I grit my teeth behind my pursed lips. If the night, which felt all too real to me, had just been another fucking dream, then it was probably the grossest joke that my own mind could ever play on me. Or, did Henry play the joke on me? Did his soul somehow enter my mind and cause me to believe that he was the man at the end of the dock? If so, he was a sick prick for doing so.

No, I couldn't think of him in that way. I shut my eyes for a moment, trying to force my nerves to bring back the phantom sensations. His cold hands upon my cheeks, definitely real. The tightness in my throat, the overwhelming emotions, trying to choke back tears. His voice, I definitely heard it. And for a hot second, I had almost forgotten what it sounded like.

Surely, this would fuck with me for the rest of the day. I'll end up over-thinking, overwhelming myself with all sorts of questions and possibilities. Because of last night, I was beginning to question what was real and what wasn't. It felt real, but I ended up waking back up in my bed, when I could have sworn I had left it in the first place to achieve my task.

I had lunch with Francesca that day, instead of Joe, whom I felt needed a couple days to himself. Besides, I needed to catch up on things with my sister.

I took her to the Maltese Falcon, which was formerly owned by Carlo Falcone, before I... well, you know the story. I don't know who owns it now, probably Eddie I would guess. Needless to say, going there brought back some rather painful memories for me, but I wasn't necessarily going to take her to Freddie's. She deserved to be somewhere classy, and the Maltese Falcon was the only classy place I knew of in all of Empire Bay.

I swallowed my pride and walked her inside of the restaurant. She seemed more vibrant today than she was yesterday, but she hadn't retained the same vibrancy as she did years ago. It was kind of painful to see her deteriorate like that, but it's not like I wasn't deteriorating the same way either.

The server lead us over to a nice booth, nicer than those at Freddie's. I helped her take her coat off before she sat down. Then, I noticed something odd about her. When I had taken off her coat, I had noticed she had gotten smaller. Smaller, as in she had lost quite a bit of weight. Probably from the amount of stress over time, or maybe she's not eating enough. Being her brother, I needed to be concerned. I sat across from her, and we awaited for our waiter to come around.

"So, Frankie," I began, somewhat awkwardly, "What's new?"

"Not a whole lot, Vito..." she answered, scratching the back of her head. Well, it had only been more than twelve hours since I'd last seen her. It's not like something must have happened within that period of time.

Soon, the waiter arrived. We ordered our food. I chose steak, as usual, but I noticed Francesca had ordered a small salad. I felt a tinge at my heart, knowing she was purposefully trying to starve herself. I saw no reason to do so, unless this was some kind of self-inflicted misery due to all the bad things that's happened to her in her life.

"Really?" I grinned, trying to be humorous. "A salad? I remember when we were kids, you were anything but frail with your appetite."

"Heh... I guess things change, don't they?" she replied with a weak smile, which concerned me more, but the last thing she needed was for me to be more concerned about her. But, I couldn't help it.

Even though she already ordered a salad, I could see her continuing to thumb through the menu, a longing in her eyes for the heavier meals. But, the waiter took our menus away, leaving her with a stronger longing in her eyes.

I needed to spark up a different conversation, something less about her eating habits and something about_ her_. Something that girls like her liked. Let's see... shopping? Yeah, shopping.

"Buy anything good?" I asked. "Ya know, like clothes? Anything? Christmas is coming up, Frankie. I'm sure you've got money burning a hole in your pocket.

Francesca let out a weak, quiet chuckle before brushing some non-existent hair out of her face. "Um, no, actually... I kinda lost a lot of money in the divorce. B-Because Eric didn't have much, so I kinda needed to take care of the expenses for a lawyer. But, hey... I'm the one who wanted it, so I guess I had to be the one to pay up, right?"

Ouch. Well, that was a buzz-kill. I hated Eric from the start, but her spilling the beans, well, that made me hate him even more.

"Well, you're not the one who cheated, you're not the one who drank and slept until half past noon, and you certainly weren't the one blowing off the paychecks on drugs and more liquor," I replied, "so you shouldn't have had to pay a dime."

"I know, Vito," she added, slightly hurt, "but, it's just not that easy. There's more paperwork, and... such..."

"I understand," I finished, not wanting to make her even more upset. I could tell it was touchy, due to her voice trailing off. I guess it was time for another subject change.

"What about, uh... how's work?" I asked once more. "I'm sure you've still got your job, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do," she answered, her eyes darting about. "I can think of so many other glamorous things to do, but I can't complain. It pays the bills... sometimes."

Sometimes. That's not the word I wanted to hear. I almost wanted to offer her to live at my place, and not have to have a care in the world, but that would increase the chance of her being caught up in my dangerous lifestyle, and if anything were to happen to her under my watch, I wouldn't know what to do with myself. Besides, I didn't live the most luxurious lifestyle, but I got all the bills paid, and she'd never have to worry about the shortage of money again.

"Eric even won over the apartment," Francesca blurted.

"Wait, you mean the apartment _we_ used to live?" I asked. "The one where it was you, me and Mama?"

"Yes..." she stammered. "He won that... so I had to move into a small apartment with what little money I had after the divorce."

Now, I was pissed. Not only did this guy drain the life and money out of her, but now he infested the home that used to belong to _my_ family. What a load of shit. Who the fuck did this guy think he was? I was merciful enough not to kill him the second I knew he was abusing her, but now my trigger finger twitched. However, I grit my teeth and forced myself to stay in the booth, instead of rushing out the door to hunt down the motherfucker and put a bullet between his eyes.

Just when I opened my mouth, the waiter placed our plates down in front of us. When I saw the waiter set the salad down in front of Francesca, I noticed exactly how small it was. Yikes, this was scary. There was no way in hell I was going to let her eat that, especially when she was this small and frail.

She picked up her fork and started to jab at her salad, biting her upper lip, looking down at the glossy leaves with contempt. I looked down at my steak, and realized how much I just didn't want it. Her contempt meant my contempt.

"Hey, Frankie," I began, looking up at her. She shot a glance back. "I'll trade ya."

"Oh... no, I'm fine with this," she mumbled.

"Liar," I grinned. "You need more meat on your bones. C'mon, eat this." I slid my plate towards her, and she leaned back, almost shocked that I was being generous.

"I, uh..." she stammered, utterly surprised I was willingly going to let her eat my steak. I didn't care for the Maltese Falcon's food, to be honest. I've had better from Mama, God rest her soul.

Reluctantly, she took it, seeing as though I wouldn't stop being persistent about it. I took her salad, and decided to munch on it. Wow, this tasted like shit. The spinach was like rubber, if that's what rubber felt like between teeth. Was this even real? But, I did it for her. She needed more. Besides, I would just end up going home to down two whole sandwiches anyway.

I saw her cut her food hesitantly, trembling with the utensils in her hand. I wanted to offer her help, but I couldn't help but just stare. She looked so helpless and mortified, as if she had never eaten a steak before. There was something wrong.

"You hungry, Frankie?" I asked. "It's all for you."

"I... Vito..." she began, looking up at me with a hurt expression. "Do you think...? Never mind..."

"Think what?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "C'mon, Frankie, tell me."

"I... do you think... that I'm fat?" she asked, her voice dropping to a quieter level upon that last word.

"Fat?" I asked with utter dismay. "What... why would I think that? You're perfect the way you are. What, is it somethin' Eric said about you?"

"Yes..." she nodded, putting down the utensils. "Well, I kinda don't blame him for thinkin' that way. I mean... I kinda did gain a little bit over our marriage, and he always compared me to the models on those glamorous magazines, and the one girl he was with all the time. He told me I should stop eatin', so he would stop cheatin' on me and maybe treat me more like a woman. So... I kinda of did... as unbearable as it was. I'd skip meals as much as I could, even sneak some, and I'd even make myself hurl when he said those things to me, hoping I'd become the kind of woman he'd ogle over. After the divorce, I never really cut the habit. I mean... I _guess_ I look better now."

I shook my head, my blood boiling more. What more did this man do to destroy her? This was pain that came from the inside out. And I thought I had the bad life.

"Frankie... you were fine before you met Eric," I began. "I hate to break it to you, but you fell apart when you married him. I honestly believe I never should have given you my blessing."

"That..." Francesca was stifled by my statement. "...that probably would have been the smartest idea, Vito..." Then I saw it; regret. The regret in her eyes was unbelievably palpable. She regretted everything; throwing away about six years of her life with a man who didn't even love her, yet she gave her heart and dignity to him. There were so many wasteful things I had spent my life on, but this was something I wouldn't wish upon even my worst enemies.

Somehow, I felt as though this was also my fault. I had given her my blessing, which caused her life to spiral down. It was all something we couldn't control. I was in prison at the time, so there was no way I would have been able to give my full judgment.

I wanted to tell her how sorry I was for all the things she had been through, but I felt as though no amount of apologies can cure what seven years worth of pain had caused her and I. Or anyone else. There was pain around every corner, and no 'sorry' could make it go away.

I was about to part my lips until I heard the sound of the radio from the other side of the restaurant. Someone had really turned it up to the point I could hear the crackling feedback from the speakers. And just when I thought I was about to have a deeper conversation with my sister, my thoughts were blocked out with the sound of the same annoying news anchor's voice, the same one I've heard in the past couple of days.

_ "This just in! New reports have come to the authorities' attention. More mass homicides have been committed by what has been, undoubtedly, a vampire! Quite possibly the same one that has been committing these same acts of murder throughout the city. Now, the vampire is targeting the elderly. A 57-year old woman was found dead in a dumpster outside of her home. Authorities inspected her body, and found that her flesh was ridden of color, along with two puncture wounds in her jugular. She was taken to the church, and the officials have clearly identified this as a vampire assault. A few more victims have been found throughout the city, but their identities are remaining anonymous until further conclusions. Remember, folks, stick to the plan. Don't be out after dark. The authorities will be swarming the streets. If you are found, you will be taken in for questioning."_

I rolled my eyes, and ran my fingers through my hair with irritation. I looked up and saw the look on Francesca's face. To my demise, she looked genuinely horrified.

"Are you kidding me?" I asked with a low tone. "You really buy this?"

"Well," she began, shocked by my sudden annoyance. "How can anyone really make this kind of thing up, Vito?"

"It sounds like fabricated bullshit to me," I added, taking another bite out of the salad. I didn't understand why I did, but I guess I needed something to gnaw on out of anger.

"It's better to be safe than sorry," she replied. "I mean, what if there really is a vampire? I mean, there's a possibility. Do you really think news stations would come up with this sort of thing just to get attention?"

I nodded in response, with a small "mhm" as I chewed the salad. She looked down at her steak, and began cutting at it before it managed to get cold. When I saw her eat, I felt a little less annoyed with her. Even if everyone else pissed me off with their theories, I couldn't be mad at my own sister. I didn't agree with her one bit. I didn't really agree with very many of her choices, in all honesty.

After taking a few bites of her meal, she paused, looking pensive. She glanced back up at me, just as I quickly finished the abomination of a salad to get the misery over with.

"You know, Vito," she continued, putting her utensils down momentarily. "There are so many mysteries to life, and the world. So many things we haven't discovered yet. So many possibilities that have yet to be foretold. As a race, we've all been passing off these various things as mere works of fiction and theories."

"Your point?" I asked, almost rudely.

"My point is," she continued, "that you've just gotta believe sometimes. If you don't believe, then you won't know for sure. The world is a big place, and not only do you have to open your eyes, but you gotta open your mind and your soul a bit to see these different things. Vampires could be real, and so can other things."

"Like what? Pixies, unicorns, fairies?"

"You never know until you believe," Francesca smiled.

"I believed in Santa Clause once," I began, "until I saw Mama put presents under the tree herself. From then on, I just said 'fuck it'."

"Not really the point I was making," she added. "Maybe you just need to open up a little more to endless possibilities."

"So you're telling me that I need to believe that vampires are real?" I asked.

"Not just vampires," she stated. "Anything. You're your own obstacle, your own limit to what you believe in."

I rolled my eyes and leaned back against the booth, done with the atrocious salad. I crossed my arms over my chest and sighed, looking the other way.

"It's just a suggestion," she added, swallowing a bite of steak. "I think you'd have a better insight on life if you just keep an open mind."

I nodded, trying not to argue with her. Arguments weren't what he needed at this point, especially when we were still trying to mend our relationship. Yesterday, I had literally just seen Francesca breaking down to the point of tears, with no hope in her heart, and now she was sitting here telling me to open my mind and look forward to unknown possibilities in life. Since when did she get so positive? Oh right, she's always been that way.

After our lunch was over, I decided to drive her home. She lived in a tiny apartment on the bad side of town, which made me concern for her safety.

"So, this is where you live?" I asked. "In this dump?"

"Yeah... I mean, it's kinda far from work, but I always take a taxi," she replied. "It's not too bad, I mean—"

"You're staying at my place tonight," I interrupted.

"Oh, Vito, that's kind but, I should really..."

Before she managed to finish her sentence, I started the car and drove in the opposite direction towards my home. I lived a dangerous lifestyle, but at least I lived in a safe neighborhood.

"Vito, please, you don't need to do this," she pleaded, a hesitant expression in her eyes. Still, I drove towards my home, ignoring her pleads. There was no way I was going to let my sister stay even another day in that hellhole.

When we arrived home, I walked her to my door. She was slow and really hesitant, but I managed to usher her inside with some gentle persuasion.

"Oh, Vito, I..." she began upon walking inside. "It's very... there's so much room. How did you manage to afford this?"

"I know some people," I began, almost sounding like Joe for a second there. "Don't worry about it. The place is safe, and not in a neighborhood where thugs will break in through your window at any given moment."

"I've never had that happen," Francesca replied, "but, I do have cockroaches and the occasional rodent problem. Nothing real serious."

"That's fuckin' disgusting," I muttered under my breath inaudibly. "You should probably stay with me for a while until I can find you a _real_ home."

"That's nice, Vito, but I really don't want you to have to go through the struggle for me."

"It's no struggle, Frankie, trust me," I added with a smile. "All I gotta do is make a few phone calls, and gather up some money and you'll be set."

She was about to protest, but she knew it would be futile to argue with me on the matter. I looked over at her momentarily, and noticed she was standing in the middle of the living room with a clueless expression on her face, looking around curiously.

"You can make yourself at home," I offered.

Once I told her so, she nodded slightly and sat down on the sofa in the living room, folding her hands across her lap politely. I still didn't think she was making herself at home, but I decided to leave her alone for a bit while I went to call Joe and make some phone calls regarding living arrangements for Francesca.

I held the phone to my ear, waiting for Joe to pick up on the other end. It took him a while, but once he did, I began to speak.

"Hey Joe, it's Vito," I spoke before glancing across the room to look over at Francesca. She looked anything but pleased to have heard Joe's name being spoken. She remembered what had happened way back then, when I had gotten arrested and sent into the military because of a crime Joe and I committed. Also, there was the gas stamp thing, and she was anything but forgiving about those two incidences.

But, once I heard Joe's voice over the receiving end, he sounded, well, much different than yesterday.

"Hey, Vito," he began, his voice sounding extremely dull with a slight hint of sadness behind it. I wanted to ask what was wrong, but we needed to get down to business.

"I need to talk to you about apartment hunting. You see, my sister Francesca, I'm sure you remember her. She needs a new home, I was hoping you'd help me find one for her."

"Uh huh," he added cynically. "Of course you need my help."

"What's up with you today?" I asked, finally unable to contain my curiosity.

"Just, things going on..." he began, the dullness thickening. I could hear him sighing, and rolling his eyes over the phone. It was a skill I managed to pick up from him a few times.

I felt the need to interfere, but I wasn't going to cave into his poor attitude. But, nonetheless, I felt the sudden need to. This was my best friend, and lately, his attitude has been getting on my nerves. This needed to be discussed.

"Uh huh," I retorted, "What kind of things, exactly?"

Awaiting his answer, I placed my hand on my hip, much like I was an impatient mother talking to her disobedient child. It seemed as though lately he's been in the worst fucking mood, but I suppose criticizing him about it instead of helping him wouldn't do any of us much good.

"Just, shit with Eddie," Joe admitted. "It's nothing, really... okay, it's not _nothing_. He's been goin' on about starting his new family from the remnants of Carlo Falcone's family."

"You told me this yesterday, Joe," I interrupted. "But, go on."

"The point is," Joe added, "He wants..." But his voice trailed off. He sounded like he was going to say something important, but he completely cut off, which made me even more concerned.

"What, Joe?" I asked. "What exactly does Eddie want?"

Joe gave what felt like five minutes worth of silence, before he decided to speak again.

"Let's just fuckin' drop it," he added, sounding somewhat panicked. Suddenly, this bright, fake happiness appeared in his voice. "Alright, now what kind of apartment does your sister need?"

"Somethin' that's not near the fuckin' ghetto," I answered, glancing back at Francesca. "Her ex, Eric, took the last apartment from her in the divorce, and the only place she was able to rent in the last minute was a shitty, infested tenement. She needs somethin' nice, clean, and somethin' close to work. You think you can help?"

"Sure," he added with the same false light in his voice. "I'll hook her up with someplace good, you won't be disappointed, Vito."

"Thanks, Joe," I replied, "Oh, and if you've got somethin' you need to talk about, I've got an open ear."

"Thanks, Vito," Joe added. I could tell he was trying to sound happy and appreciative, but some sadness leaked back into his voice. Before I could say goodbye, he hung up the phone, so I knew he was genuinely upset about something, and that something involved Eddie.

"So, what'd Joe have to say?" Francesca asked, sounding somewhat hesitant about Joe getting involved with our escapades.

"He's gonna help you out," I replied. "For now, you're staying here. I'm not letting you go back. No sister of mine is living in a shithole. Joe's gonna help you find a great place, small rent, clean with no gang violence. You'll be safe and happy, and I promise that."

"Vito, you're too kind," Francesca replied, a pit of happiness forming in her voice. "I don't know how I can repay you, really."

"You don't have to," I added. "It's on me. I'll pay the first month of rent, then you can do whatever you want from there."

Francesca arose to her feet and approached me. I stood, stifled for a moment, and just when I was about to ask her what was wrong, she wrapped her arms around me, pulling me inward. Taken by surprise, I instinctively embraced her, my heart warming to her affection. It had been forever since I had gotten a hug from Francesca. Her hugs felt like home; to smell her fresh perfume, to bask in the comfort of her arms, her small, adorable frame reminding me of when times were simpler. When I came back from the war and had the chance of embracing her. It brought back joy into my life. And now, it was time for me to bring back joy into hers.

"I'm willing to do anything for you, Frankie," I murmured beside her ear. "Anything. I'd even kill for you if it came down to it."

"Vito!" Francesca gasped, pulling away and smacking my chest, a hint of slight anger in her eyes.

"Heh... I'm kidding!" I chuckled. Of course, I was serious. If I had to kill someone to make her happy, I would. But, she wouldn't appreciate that very much, so I decided not to reveal my subliminal message.

"No! More! Violence!" she scolded, smacking my chest three more times with her furious words.

I chuckled once more, enjoying the privilege to see her light up with emotions again. I internally promised to take care of her again, no matter what the cost was. If she saw me come home any time with blood on my clothing, I'd come up with a lie. Anything to keep her safe and happy. I gave not a single care in the world what the circumstances were.

Later that evening, I decided to take her shopping for gorgeous clothes, since she left her other clothes at her old apartment. There was no way I'd let her wear those rags again, so I purchased dresses, shoes and different coats that catered to her taste. I could have sworn she collapse in tears when she saw some of the dresses at Vangel's. It was like a hidden paradise. I felt my heart warm when I noticed the good time she was having, seeing her picky side with the dresses, trying to figure out which one fit her tastes. I enjoyed seeing her get a little bit spoiled with the clothes.

After we were done, I took her to the theater, and we had a good time. She put on one of her best dresses, and we went and saw a romance flick. I wasn't the one for romance, but she delved in it. I rolled my eyes at the parts she shed tears to.

When the night started to fall, I drove Francesca home with me. The backseat was filled with shopping bags of different gifts bought for Francesca. Every now and then, I would briefly avert my eyes from the road to glance over at her. After one day of spending time with her and catching up, I saw life begin to slowly trickle back into her. I felt proud of myself for doing the simple things I needed to do.

But later that night, as she went to bed, using my bed of course, I received a phone call from someone I hadn't heard from in a few days.

"Hello?" I answered, receiving the phone as quickly as I could so it wouldn't ring for long and wake Francesca.

"Hello, Vito." The voice belonged to Leo. "Sorry for the late night call, but I need you to come by my mansion for a little talk. I've got an important task for you to complete."

"What's the task about?" I asked, running my fingers through the back of my hair.

"We'll discuss it when you arrive," he replied. "I'll be waiting, Vito."

Before I could protest, the line went dead. I sighed, shaking my head. What was it about people and hanging up the phone so abruptly without a simple goodbye? It confused me as to how people became so impolite.

I went over to Francesca to make sure she hadn't been awoken by the phone. As I slowly opened the door to check on her, I heard a soft sound. It sounded like soft gasps and sniffles. I listened closely, squinting my eyes with curiosity as I peaked my head in slightly. Listening carefully, I could hear it; Francesca was crying. But, why? I had taken her out earlier in the day to have fun and go shopping. This had to have been some deeper sort of misery that I haven't seen yet, and what she had told me was just scratching the surface. Maybe, she had found personal time to release more of those emotional problems, most likely by crying herself to sleep. And I could understand why. Hell, I had done so on occasion.

Sighing, I closed the door and left my apartment, driving away discreetly, avoiding any common police routes, as to not get arrested again.

It seemed like day after day, I was watching people close to me fall apart before my eyes. Two days was all it took to see. Joe was going cold on me, and it was possibly Eddie's fault. Later on, I would have to get to the bottom of it, since I didn't really trust Eddie after he hooked me up to kill Carlo Falcone. That was practically a trap set by him, but the job needed to be done. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else he was trying to pull. He was a shady character, and I didn't really trust him from day one. There's just something about him that seems suspicious, and I could tell from his face, his attitude, the way he shook my hand. That man was anything but trustworthy, and knowing that he's beating down my best friend and probably using him, well, it just made me want to chip away at the issue more. I even

I even heard my sister cry herself to sleep. Even after giving her lavish gifts, she still felt pain, pain that would take forever to make go away, and there was nothing I could do but stand back and let her release these emotions, and just keep her close. But no matter what, I couldn't stop her tears. My friends' and loved ones' burdens lay on my shoulders, but there was one particular burden that lingered and brought me bothersome feelings, but a slight chance of hope.

After seeing Henry on the dock last night, felt like some kind of light returned to my life after a year of nothing but gloom and doom. At least, I _think _I saw him on the dock last night. I mean, there's a possibility that it another one of those fucking repetitive dreams again, only with a different twist. Like I had noted before, it had all felt way too real. Yet again, Henry died a year ago. Something told me this was all a mirage; my mind was storing all this grief that I didn't know I had, and making my brain play tricks on me.

Not to mention, to top it all off, the vampire bullshit was STILL going around, which added more salt to the wound. It ground my gears, feeling as though everyone around me believed in this nonsense, and here I was, the black sheep, being looked at as though I was some sort of unknown specimen walking among humans. When I addressed the possibility that vampires are non-existent, I'm stared down at like some creature, like I was talking in some foreign language, when it was everyone who was speaking out of their asses. What was there to believe about fairy tales and myths anyway? This could literally all be just some sort of coincidence.

But then, I remembered Francesca's words of odd wisdom at the Maltese Falcon during lunch earlier that day.

_"If you don't believe, then you won't know for sure. The world is a big place, and not only do you have to open your eyes, but you gotta open your mind and your soul a bit to see these different things."_

Could she be right in all this? Not just the whole thing about vampires, but everything. Believe in everything, huh? How was that possible?

_"There are so many mysteries to life, and the world. So many things we haven't discovered yet. So many possibilities that have yet to be foretold. As a race, we've all been passing off these various things as mere works of fiction and theories."_

Maybe there was something more to what she was saying than just vampires. What more was there to believe in? What other possibilities lied in this world?

_"You never know until you believe."_

I could literally hear Francesca's voice ringing through my head, her words of wisdom. There was so much she taught me in the past, maybe I could learn from her a little more. Still, I didn't see what more I could learn.

But for some odd reason, without explanation, her words made me briefly think of Henry. How do her words of subliminal knowledge correlate with Henry in any way? It's just that when I heard the world 'believe', it always directed me back to him. Should I believe in him? What I saw? My dreams? The messages? The possibility of vampires? Something wasn't clicking right.

I pushed those thoughts out of my mind by the time I drove onto Leo's massive estate. He never bothered to sell it when he thought about moving to a tropical state. He said he had a feeling he'd have to come back for whatever reason, so he continued to keep it as his own. Because of his unfinished business, his dreams of living on a tropical island would have to wait.

I approached the heavy doors of the manor and knocked roughly. This time, I wasn't going to barge in like I had done that one time, since he made the habit of locking the door now. After a moment of waiting, one of Leo's henchmen opened the door for me, welcoming me in upon recognizing me.

I stepped inside the mansion and wandered up the massive flight of stairs, which branched off in two different directions. I made a turn on the right, and wandered into his room, which was where his office was. And there, in what seemed like a throne, sat Leo. He glanced up at me with his aged eyes, a cigarette resting between his thin, parted lips. Once we made eye contact, his old expression turned into gratitude.

"Vito," he started, tapping his cigarette against the edge of his ashtray. "Come in, take a seat. Pepe, pull up a chair for Vito."

Pepe, Leo's large henchmen, whom I had sparred with in prison, pulled a chair away from the desk, which I gingerly sat in. I leaned back against my chair in a calm fashion, waiting for Leo to begin talking.

"There's something we need to discuss," he began, turning on a lamp near his desk. I looked around and noticed he had the blinds closed, and there were more lights lit in his room than usual. I guessed the man liked his ambiance. Still, all these lights seemed a bit weird to have in his room, considering the rest of his mansion was dim.

"I haven't been giving you much work to do lately," Leo began, "since business has been somewhat slow lately. I also understand you haven't pulled the trigger in what probably seems like forever. Which is why I'm putting you on a late-night mission; you're going to whack someone."

"For what reason?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's just a favor from a loan shark that we're acquainted with," Leo answered. "I'm sure you're familiar with a man named Bruno Levine."

When that man's name was spoken, I felt my blood freeze instantly. I sure as hell remembered Bruno. A while back, after I had returned from the war, my family was ganged up on by Bruno's henchmen, since my father had borrowed a large sum of money, which he failed to pay off in time. This caused me to have to do his light work and pay off the debt for him. Well, I guess I can't complain too hard, considering if the debt hadn't been there, I wouldn't have had a reason to join this kind of business to earn the money I do today. Nonetheless, I had this shady feeling about Bruno. Sure, he didn't force the money on my dad, but he still tried to send assholes after my family to give him something they didn't owe. Well, shit happens, doesn't it?

"Yeah," I answered. "I know him."

"Good," Leo grinned. "Because this family is well-acquainted with him, considering he's one of the best damn loan sharks in Empire Bay."

"I'm aware," I added sarcastically. "Anyways, what's this favor he wants from us?"

"That's the big mission," Leo began, "There's this man who borrowed money for him. His henchmen believe he was investing it all in some underground marijuana business. The son of a bitch borrowed twenty grand from Bruno in order to get his pot business going. Well, money well spent; he has not paid off his debt in three years. No matter how many times Bruno sends out his henchmen to deal with him and take his share of the dough, the sick bastard still won't pay back a penny. I've seen the filthy scoundrel myself. He's about the most disgusting fuckin' human being I've ever laid eyes on. My men and I believed he just used all that money to indulge in his own filthy pleasures, and Bruno damn well knows it, too. And tonight, you're whacking him. If he can't pay off a three-year debt with whatever link he's got in his pockets, he'd going to have to pay with his life."

"Who's the guy?" I asked, not very keen on killing a druggie. But hey, what had to be done, had to be done. As long as I got Bruno off my back again.

Leo took a manila folder from his desk and opened it in front of me, showing all sorts of photographs and documents. I looked through the documents, and my eyes widened to the size of dinner plates when I saw the contents.

"His name is Eric Reilly," Leo began. "This is the bastard you'll be whacking tonight."

I don't know why, but a large smile spread across my face as I peaked at all the photographs and documents regarding Eric, envisioning in my head, the pavement being splattered with his blood and bits of brain matter from one of my bullets passing through his ugly fucking mug. I could feel the vengeance bubbling within my innards.

"Where am I meeting up with this guy?" I asked, trying to force back my smile. I just couldn't contain my excitement, but I had to in order to look professional.

"We've arranged a fake drug-deal with him out by the dockyard," Leo began. "It's secluded, dark, and no one will suspect a thing. The dumb bastard is willing to do any sort of drug deal, no matter the location. You can easily take him out, dump his disgusting body into the waters, and be done with it."

"That'll be kind of a difficult task," I began. "The whacking I can sure as hell do. Getting to the dockyard? Well, I got arrested a couple days ago and was held in captivity of the church for driving at night. The authorities have been jumpy about this whole vampire business, which I believe to be complete bullshit, so they're roaming the streets and picking up anyone who's walking around at night. They're calling people _nightwalkers_. It was hard for me just to drive to your mansion. I had to completely re-route my way here to avoid the cops."

Leo gave a small chuckle, not saying anything regarding my opinionated statement on behalf of supernatural activities. "Don't worry. We've managed to snatch up a decoy cop car for you to use when transporting yourself over to the dockyard. That way, you'll blend right in as a regular cop car, and no one will pull you over."

"I guess that'll make things a hell of a lot easier, then."

"Anyways, there's a piece in the glove compartment," Leo continued. "It's the only piece you'll need, since he's not a real threat. Just one cap between the eyes, and you'll be golden. I know a guy like you shouldn't have any problem with a schmuck like that. Just come right back here when you're done."

"No problem," I finished, standing up and pushing my chair in. I exited the mansion, and was escorted towards the decoy cop car held up in the backyard. I got inside, and started the ignition, letting the excitement resurface. I let out a brief chuckle as I drove out of the estate.

Man, this was awesome. I got to finally kill Eric Reilly, and for a good reason too. In my mind, I imagined all the pain, tears and turmoil that he had caused Francesca, and my heart started to race; her lost child, her lost dignity, and her lost happiness. No more Eric, no more pain, no more agony on Francesca's part. This would sure bring more light back into her heart, knowing the monster in her life has been destroyed. I got to finally rid the world of a rodent that should have been taken care of a long time ago.

I slightly damned myself for not having finished the job back at the apartment. One more swing, and he would have been a goner. But, the best part about killing him now, is that I'm going to get paid for it. Not only do I get to avenge my poor sister, but I get my own share in the process.

I adjusted the rear-view mirror in the front, and caught a glimpse of my own determined grin in in the reflected. And for the first time in forever, I felt genuine excitement.


	5. Chapter 5

Vampire Bay

I drove through Empire Bay in the cop car, feeling unstoppable. No one was going to get in the way of this mission. I had fire in my blood, crafted from the perfect vengeance. I had every reason, other than my own hatred, to off this motherfucker for good. Talk about getting the job done once and for all, right?

As I came close to the dockyard, I could feel the strength of the fire within me grow, warming me as the cold tried to freeze me. This was it. I was finally going to kill Eric. It would be in a location where no one would find out, and I'd finally be avenging Francesca. I wasn't doing this for Bruno, or Leo, hell, not even myself. This was for Francesca. All for her, only for her. She was my blood, and when someone fucks with _my _blood, _their_ blood gets splattered all over the pavement.

My mind went to the location, and I remembered the night before; meeting Henry there. Somehow, that had kick-started a stronger fire in my stomach, but something else too. What if tonight, he was there again? No, he couldn't be. I didn't think he would be. There wasn't a dream the night before that clued me in on his appearance on the dock.

Maybe, after I saw him that one time, he decided to go away forever. If so, I would be damned if she showed up at the dock again. But, what if he did? And if he was, what would I do? There was so much to talk about, so many questions, so many unknown answers that I wanted to seek. I missed him, since he was a good pal and we had many memories, but at the same time, I was angry with him for just showing up out of the blue and leaving me with my jaw hanging open in surprise and no answers.

But tonight, I was going to focus on the one thing that mattered, and it was to kill Eric, and avenge Francesca, like a good brother should. Whether she likes it or not, the asshole needed to die. That way, he wouldn't cause anyone else any more misery.

I slowly pulled into the dockyard and searched around for any sign of a person. Surely, I saw tire tracks when I entered, so it was clear that another car had been here before me, so this was a sure sign. When I saw no one at the entrance, I continued to drive a little ways around, the headlights illuminating the trail. But, as I drove for a while, I noticed the tracks were starting to deteriorate, being concealed by the heavy amounts of snow once more.

As Leo had told me, he was supposed to be at the dockyard, waiting for this false drug deal that Leo's henchmen arranged. I started to get a little confused at his absence. I know Leo wasn't bullshitting when he told me Eric's location. He even let me borrow the cop car to get to my destination safely. I knew it wasn't some sick joke played by Leo, so it had to have been Eric being an unreliable dickhead, as usual. I didn't trust the guy, so it was certain I couldn't trust him to be in the destination. Still, he had no idea I was coming, so this would surely spook the poor son of a bitch. A bullet would be between his eyes before he could take his last breath. And I knew, once he was laying dead before me, I'd laugh.

This was probably one of the best missions I'd ever accomplish.

Only, I couldn't accomplish anything if I didn't find the sick son of a bitch. I had to look harder. Maybe he was hiding out in Derek's office like a coward, or under one of the construction complexes. I would guess he'd be hiding under the car lift or in one of the sheds. It was snowing like holy hell, so who's blame him? Well, he could at least stand out and he a man for once, and not a sniveling larvae.

I was starting to get tired of driving around aimlessly in a cop car. Surely, if he was already here, and he saw a cop car run by, he would have probably run off to hide somewhere. I guess a cop car wasn't necessarily the best idea in this case. Druggy rats like Eric had aversions to cops. Well, let's not to say I don't have aversions to them either, but these assholes in particular scatter about like cockroaches exposed to light.

I took the gun from the glove compartment, exited the vehicle and decided to have myself a look around. There were just a few overhead lights along the trail, so it was easy to see where I was going. I just hoped Eric didn't run off after seeing the car. That would fuck me over out of my mission and achieving vengeance. If he saw, surely he would try to run off, thinking that the customer was originally a cop trying to pinch him. Well, seeing him either get killed or arrested; I didn't know which one would be funnier to see.

As I walked around, trying to find his sorry ass, I heard a blood-curdling scream in the distance. I looked around, my eyes darting about, my night-blindness taking over. I tried to focus and tune my ears to the sound. The scream carried out into multiple echos that bounced along all walls of each building, which disoriented me as to where the scream was coming from. Suddenly, another scream broke out, this time in a more pleading fashion.

_"OH GOD SOMEBODY HELP ME!" _

My heart raced, and I bolted in the direction towards the first source of the sound. It was so distant, it was hard to pin-point the exact location before the sound waves spread apart and echoed away from one another.

I sprinted for as long as my legs allowed, which was for a pretty long distance. My breaths shortened, but my heart continued to pound away within my rib cage. I kept my gun by my side, clutching it within my hand as I ran to the beat of my heart. I followed the continuous screams and pleads for help. As I continued to sprint, they sounded more pained. I had a feeling this wasn't going to be a good scene.

I could have sworn the only other person that was supposed to be here, other than me, was Eric. If that was the case, and Eric really was here, was he the source of the screaming? There was only one way to find out.

I felt as though I was coming closer to the distressed screams, but just when the final, most brutal scream came to a stop, I was left with only echos. I was, once again, standing alone and confused in the middle of the dockyard. There was nothing more to do than to look around, since by the time I got close to the scream, I was pretty close.

Knowing I was in range of the screaming had me nearly petrified. This could also mean my own demise too, if I didn't find out what was causing the screams. Surely, if it was Eric, I hoped the fucker died a horrible, painful death, and that whoever had done my light work had better have thrown his grotesque body overboard. That way, it would be done and over with, and I could go home and get a good night's sleep. Still, it wouldn't hurt to investigate a little. However, I knew that whatever was at the end of my investigate could be the end of me. Oh well, at least I lived a good life.

Alright, I was bullshitting about that last part. I wanted to live, but I also wanted to see if whatever was out here had done a good deed. The motto, "curiosity killed the cat", would most likely heavily apply to this situation.

For about five more minutes of cautiously wandering around with my gun at my side, I envisioned what could have possibly killed Eric, that is, if he was the one getting brutally murdered out here in the dead of night. Was it a wild animal? I don't see how that could be a mere possibility. How in the world could a wild animal get into the dockyard, let alone Empire Bay? There wasn't even a zoo in Empire Bay. Maybe the poor bastard decided to take a dip in the ice cold water, and ended up getting eaten by a shark. Still, I don't think there were any sharks either.

My mind wandered to the oddest places, and created the oddest scenarios of Eric's death. I couldn't help but want to chuckle at the fatigue-induced thoughts which were derived from my hunger of revenge. Only, I couldn't expect that _he _was dead. Anyone could have gotten murdered here. There was so much crime, and it happened at night, more than it should have, actually.

Nonetheless, I scanned my surroundings. I stood under an overhead light to take a moment from the darkness so I wouldn't develop some kind of night-blindness. I was particularly good at seeing in the dark, but only for a little while. In the war, it was a mandatory skill to be able to see in pitch black conditions, but after that, I gradually lost the ability, since most of my crimes we done in the light. It was a blessing, but a curse.

In the midst of my mindless pondering, I looked over and I noticed a car, but not just anyone's car; this was Eric's car, and I was standing right by it. I was almost startled by its sudden appearance, but something told me it had been here before me. So I was right, he really was here. But, where was he exactly? Involuntarily, I glanced down and noticed a spot on the ground. I knelt down and inspected it. The thick substance, which sank into the powdery white snow, looked to be black, almost tar-like, but with a maroon tint; blood. And it was fresh.

Oh shit.

I looked up and noticed drips of it carrying off into the darkness past the gradient of the streetlight against the ground. Feeling like a detective, I decided to cautiously follow the spots of blood on the ground, my night-vision returning. I had to stop momentarily a few times after leaving the safety of the spotlight to wait for my eyes to adjust to the darkness again. I couldn't risk what would happen if I trailed off from the spots on the ground. I could then start to see footprints from another person with the trail of blood-spots. So, it was a person who was the perpetrator, and not some wild animal. Well, that made things easier for me.

The spots and footprints on the ground lead me down the snowy dockyard's path, but seemed to be getting larger. After careful moments of observing the spots, which carried on continuously, these splotches slowly form into smears, tainting the snow in its maroon color. I prayed that hopefully the snow wouldn't begin to cover these obvious tracks.

I found it odd that these spots appeared just near Eric's car. Maybe, just maybe, he really did get killed out here in cold blood, and I hadn't seen it. I had quite possibly arrived just as he was dragged out of that gas-guzzler. I wasn't in the right place, but I was definitely here at the perfect time.

As the trail of blood in the snow became thicket, it seemed that whoever had a hold of Eric may have either shot or stabbed him without killing him, but only for the intention of weakening him. And when they had a hold of him, they dragged him across the ground, most likely by his feet, and he started to bleed on the ground, the bleeding getting heavier as he went. If this was the case, wouldn't the perpetrator carry out the murder in a way where not so much evidence was left behind? Unless, this person was a professional at clearing out any traces to themselves regarding the murder. I felt like a detective trying to figure this all out. It wasn't the idea of pinching a serial killer, but it was the idea that I _as a serial killer_, I know what to do with a victim without making it look like it was _me_ who did it.

I continued to follow the smear, which grew heavier. My heart began to race, and I could feel it perforating it within the depths of my stomach. It was incredibly loud in contrast to the silence of the night, so I was sure the perpetrator was able to hear it clearly.

I was lead to an intersection where four paths crossed, and as soon as I turned a corner, the trail of blood stretch far into the distance. My eyes followed the lengthy trail of blood, all the way to the end of the path, and on that very path stood a light pole, which shone down its dimmed, golden light, and within it sat a black figure, which looked like a fuzzy speck in the distance. I needed to get up close and see what it was. Surely, this was Eric's killer standing within that light, and there was no way I was going to let them go without giving them a handshake or a pat on the back.

Still, I couldn't shake the eerie feeling this figure brought me. What if they decided to do the same to me? Well, it was a good thing I had a gun, kudos to Leo.

I slowly walked along the trail, following it with extreme caution. Just as I made my way along the trail, the snowfall eventually started to become heavier as I walked. I approached the source of the light closer and closer, until the fuzziness started dying down and the figure soon shaped into a definite image.

I started to have flashbacks about the dream when I laid eyes upon this particular figure. I remembered each night, the moonlight shone down on a figure at the end of the dock, which appeared fuzzy at first, until approaching it. The same image stood in my mind for several moments, and I just couldn't shake it out. It was as if someone was projecting the dream in my head without me being asleep.

Then, I remembered the night before. Flashes of Henry's face appeared in my head after moments of walking closer and closer towards my destination. I remembered his expression, his scar-less face, as if no one had mutilated him. His cold hands upon my cheeks, and his voice. We stood in the darkness upon that very dock. Only, it was brief, but gave me much detail pertaining to the night. No, it couldn't have been real.

_This is real_.

No, it's not.

_Sometimes, you just have to believe._

Not this time.

_Look in front of you._

I am.

_You'll find your answers._

Answers.

_You believe._

No I don't.

_Do you really?_

I don't know...

Soon, the flashbacks left my mind, and I was thrown back into reality. It felt as though these thoughts had taken me through time, taking each moment out of each step I took. And there I was, standing before what I had so waited to discover. My eyes had been transfixed upon the darkened ground the entire time, I hadn't given much thought to what I could find, until I looked up. And what I saw left me speechless.

I stared in disbelief at the man standing before me. The blistering cold bit my face, so I knew what was happening was in fact real. The man, which had originally been an unfocused black figure, slowly turned his focus away from the body that lied on the ground in a pool of blood, the same color as the trail that had lead me here. I managed to give a brief glance at the body. Under the light, I could see it clearly for just about one second. The body was laying on its side, but its head was turned the opposite was, as if the neck had been snapped and turned backwards on the spine. I saw the face, and it was none other than Eric's face, encrusted in death, his neck bearing an open wound which gushed with blood. I knew now what I was dealing with.

_This is real_.

The mysterious crimes I've heard so much about on the radio, about the victims with puncture wounds in their necks, their flesh drained of color; it was all from the books in our childhoods. It was all from the myths we were told from pastors and priests. It was all from the horror flicks shot in black and white with spotted film which rolled on a blank screen before our fearful eyes.

It was all real.

_You believe._

I was not prepared to face this sort of phenomenon, yet… I was not afraid.

Standing completely still, my eyes locked on the man. I didn't bother moving a muscle, not out of fear, but out of curiosity. I wanted to see this for myself, to be proven wrong. It caused an ache within me, a knot within me that had to be undone. Words were put into my head, and now it was time to put them into perspective. It was time to see to believe, and not hear to believe.

The time was now.

The mysterious, darkly-clothed man had begun turning his head slowly to get a good look at me. Just single movement brought back a coinciding image in my mind of a certain someone turning around to look at me, and never getting to see his face until the night before. This was nostalgic, and caused me a great deal of déjà vu. but I noted the piercing red eyes, which peered right into my own, which had been completely different than the previous occurrence. Nonetheless, I kept an observant eye on the phenomenon unfolding before me.

Once his head was turned, his shoulders did so as well, along with his torso, and under the dim illumination of the streetlight, I could finally see his face; bereft of scars, as if the past had never happened.

Upon looking at his face, the black suit and that familiar tie with the mesmerizing, textured pattern, I knew exactly who it was. From the slight age in his face to his jaw line and stern expression, the recollection from the night before, which had all been believed to be nothing but a mirage, was now proven factual. With this, all I could see was one person.

"Henry…" I spoke with a soft tone. His eyes may have been fierce with hunger, but behind them, I could see fear. He had just been discovered, and of all the people in the world, it was by me. Then, I remembered the night I saw him at the dock. Our emotional reunion somehow recollected with this event. Henry suddenly coming back out of the blue, visiting me in my dreams, being skittish of the sunlight. It all made complete sense.

_You found me._

"I'm not going to hurt you." I finally raised my voice to a normal talking level, still maintaining my calmness. I raised my hands to show him that I wasn't armed, even though the gun was attached to my belt, hidden underneath my jacket. I was the one person who wasn't afraid of Henry hurting me, since I acknowledged the fact that it was _he_ who was afraid of being hurt, and I understood why.

Henry turned all the way around to face me. Upon showing him my pacifism, I gained his trust once more. Seeing him entirely under the streetlight, I got a clear view of his face. The color had subsided from his complexion, leaving him looking nearly as white as the snow that surrounded us. Unlike now, his skin was mysteriously a healthy olive before.

I looked upon his lips and noticed a dark crimson liquid dripping from his chin, which was the same color of the pool of blood beneath his feet. I saw two white glints appear from the corners of his mouth, which stood out from his regular teeth. Now, I understood. The thirst for blood, the red eyes, change in skin tone, the unusual aggression and need to seclude himself; it all made sense now.

His expression was that of shock, and exposure. I could feel my own expression, and I knew mine was of comfort and assurance. I sported a gentle smirk, my eyebrows lifted slightly, the corners of my eyes shut somewhat. I could tell that Henry was preparing to be, not killed, but rejected by me. I had no idea why he would feel this way. The other night, I could tell he felt some kind of reluctance around me. But, I was there, and I was just happy that he was there as well. Never, would I reject him.

And in this moment of silence, I comforted him without a single touch, but at the same time I read him without a single word. His lips were slightly parted, those small white glints appearing once more from the corners of his mouth. I read all the signs; he had become the embodiment of all that churches preached about; the monster that lurked in the shadows, fed from the blood of humans, and secluded themselves from the light. Only, he wasn't a monster. He was Henry Tomasino. The same one I had known for long, the one whom I had put my trust into, the one whom I had grieved for, the one whom I had sought after.

Although, was no mistaking it. Henry was a vampire. And I, for one, wasn't afraid.

_You really aren't afraid, are you?_

No, why would I be?

_And you finally believe?_

Yes.

_How did you know I was here?_

I followed you.

_How?_

Through my dreams.

_You still want answers._

That I do.

_Why?_

You came into my life unexpectedly.

_You almost didn't believe in me._

And I was wrong.

_You missed me while I was gone, right?_

Of course.

_I missed you too._

I know.

_How?_

If you didn't, you wouldn't have made me dream.

_Is this all still just a dream to you?_

Not anymore.

_You believe._

Yes.


	6. Chapter 6

Vampire Bay

There was no way that last night didn't happen. Absolutely no way. I saw it all, I could have sworn that it happened. I was there. Eric's body was on the ground, laying in a pool of his own blood. It was obvious it happened.

Henry was even there, and he had Eric's blood drizzling down his lips and chin. His voice rang in my ears. I could even remember the exact words he stated; my name.

_Vito._

Every time I heard it, I felt some odd sensation in my chest. It was this tightening around my heart, a pain coursing through my chest, putting pressure on my ribs, but not the unbearable pain. It was the kind of pain that left me feeling warm afterwards, a spread of heat to my cheeks. It was the pain that wouldn't allow me to breath, but in place of that, made my lips stretch into a smile. The pain may have felt physical, but it wasn't really pain.

I just couldn't shake the feeling of bewilderment at how I had been so blindly mistaken. This was complete proof of the race of vampires' existence. But how had Henry somehow become one of them? I had never would have expected him to come back, especially as one of those creatures. And most of all, never in my life had I ever expected to meet one. It shocked me, left me dumbfounded, but all in all, I was amazed at a phenomenon. Maybe Francesca was right all along. Maybe I should believe.

But what left me in constant disbelief was the fact that I had, once again, awoken in my apartment, in my bed, in my pajamas. It couldn't have been a dream, since I had clearly been called to Leo's mansion, getting hired to whack Eric, drive to the dockyard and get the job done. But I had seen what had already happened. There must have been proof that the night actually happened, and not just my memories.

As I lifted myself from the bed, I sat on the edge, shook my head, and ran my fingers through my messy hair. I looked over to the nightstand and saw a slip of paper sitting on the surface. I reached out and grabbed it, reading the contents.

_Vito, if you're reading this, I went to work already. You were sleeping, so I didn't want to wake you. I'll be home around 3:30. – Francesca._

Let's just hope she doesn't find out about Eric's death. If she does, she'll suspect I'm the one who did it. Even if she expects it out of me, I'll lie and say otherwise. It's not like she'll have any proof, let alone does she know what my career path is.

Since she had left for work, I decided to spruce up the apartment a little. I hadn't cleaned in a while, and the place was starting to become a mess. If I wouldn't allow my sister to live in a tenement, I should at least make my own home clean for her comfort. Being in the crime business, taking care of my own home was, by itself, a laboring task.

As I turned on the radio to my favorite station in order to give myself something to concentrate on while I was cleaning, I kept reflecting on the events of last night. If it was a dream, there would surely be no proof of any of it. But if it all happened, there would sure as shit be proof, and if that proof was as clear as crystal, then I'd investigate further into it.

Once all my chores were done, I still had hours to spare before Francesca were to come home. Then, I decided to do something I never thought I'd have to do in my many years out of high school; go to the library.

I hadn't been to the library in years, it seemed. The last time I went to the library was with Francesca when we were younger, and she had graduated from high school before I did. Every time she'd go to the library, Mama would ask her to bring me along, just so I wouldn't get in trouble on the streets. It was the most boring thing ever to me. She would constantly have her friends come along, they'd grab coffee, laugh and talk about girl things, cute boys, and romance novels. I would sit there among the group, and listen to them constantly talk about all the things I wasn't interested in. Sure, I tried to flirt with Francesca's friends a few times, but that always resulted in Francesca lecturing me, telling me to be quiet. So, I sat there and grit my teeth, listening to their girly conversations, and being the only man in the group (not even a man yet, still a boy), it was painful when I was being told what to do by my older sister, thus being embarrassed in front of her cute friends whom I could have had a chance with. Oh well, they were all prudes anyway.

I drove over to the library, which was close to the planetarium, which was where I killed Carlo Falcone. I hated driving by, since it reminded me too much of that day. It was the day I almost lost Joe. I shook the negative thoughts and continued my drive, then parked my car in the closest parking spot I could find.

Walking inside, I looked around, feeling completely out of place. The interior of the library had drastically changed over the course of time since I had last been there. It was a ten year gap, it seemed. I remember coming through those doors with Francesca by my side, and I wore my red Empire Cannons high school outfit. Now, things have changed. I could say that it changed for the better, but at the same time, I didn't like being in the library, so I didn't care how it changed.

As I wandered through, I glanced at the people there. The same librarian that worked in the library ten years ago was still standing behind the counter. She was an old bat, and always glared up at me from behind her semi-bifocals, which was chained by pearls around her neck.

I avoided eye contact as best as I could as I wandered through each isle. Unlike my sister, I was not a bookworm. Reading was too time consuming when I had better things to do, unless it was the newspaper. I enjoyed reading about current news and events in the real world. I didn't necessary like to delve into the world of fiction in my free time. I liked to learn about present time issues, not about things that never happened to people that never existed. Hell, I didn't even enjoy reading the bible. Everything my family read was extremely uninformative.

So, I did something I wouldn't normally do; I went into the fiction section of the library.

Walking along the shelf, I slid my finger along the spines of the books. It all went alphabetically, so research would come easily to me. As I slowly slid to the end, I mumbled each letter under my breath.

"S... T... U... V." I stopped at the 'V' section and looked through the different books. Lo and behold, there were definitely books on vampires.

"_Vampires; All You Need to Know_. Sounds promising..." I muttered. Then, my eyes caught another book. I approached it and pulled it off the shelf, holding the other book under my other arm.

"_The Vampyre_..." I read the title softly to myself before holding it next to the other book. My eyes darted between the two of them, unable to decide which book was the most informative. Just when I was about to decide, someone came up from behind me and tapped me on the shoulder. Turning around, my eyes were met with a young girl with large glasses, freckles and a turtleneck.

"Um," she began, "if you're into books like those, I would suggest also checking out _Nosferatu _and _Bram Stoker's Dracula_. I hope that helps."

"Thanks," I replied, "but I'm not actually checking anything out. I'm just curious."

"Curiosity is always a good thing," she replied, "because when curiosity strikes, books always hold the answer!"

"Okay," I replied again, turning back to the other two books.

"You know," she continued, "a lot of people have been checking out books about vampires and other supernatural creatures. Ever since there's been a vampire in Empire Bay, there have been high demands for books regarding the existence of them, their origins, and how to protect oneself from a vampire attack."

I was surprised that she hadn't left me alone yet. I was showing all the signs of being completely uninterested. Still, she stood there and talked to me. I kept a stale expression, yet on the inside was humiliated and burning with anticipation for her to go away. I hated being so exposed like this, since before, I had been an open non-believer.

"I'll look at the other ones," I sighed finally, "if you decide to leave me alone."

I hated being rude, but this was something personal and private I wanted to educate myself on, and I couldn't have some squirrely librarian pestering me about it any more than my own mind was.

She shut her mouth, her eyes widening behind her glasses. She gave a small nod, turned on her heel and walked away, making me feel sort of guilty. Maybe I should check out some of these books.

I advanced through the isle again to look for the other two books she recommended for me. I pulled them off the shelf, along with a book titled _The Encyclopedia of Vampirism._ I knew if Joe, Francesca or anyone else caught me with these books, I'd get the strangest reactions from them. That's why I was going to put these in a place no one would find them.

I reluctantly lugged all five of the books to the check out counter. I was about to check them all out, until the librarian told me I had to have a library card. So, there went a good fifteen minutes filling out information just so I can get a card I'll probably never use again for the sake of checking out just five books that I would be returning soon anyway. This is the reason I hate libraries; just a waste of time over stacks of dusty paper.

After that bullshit was taken care of, they gave me a paper bag to put my books in, which I felt lucky for. I carried my things to my car and drove home, where I would do my research in the private comfort of my own home.

Once I went through the door, I set the bag on my dinner table and pulled out the contents. I couldn't decide which book I'd read first. I chose something, whose title sounded informative. So, it was a tie between _Vampires: All You Need to Know_ and _The Encyclopedia of Vampirism_. The former sounded easier to take in, so I cracked that one open first, and sat on my couch, thumbing through the information diligently.

First, it started with the basics: how to identify a vampire at first glance.

_On the surface, vampires have pale skin, almost a shade of white. Their flesh is ice cold to the touch, due to lack of blood flow, which also explains the pale complexion. They also tend to have piercing red eyes that glow when they feel endangered, threatened, hungry or angered. Vampires also have sharp, white fangs that sometimes peak out from their lips. They also have an appetite for human blood. If they cannot obtain such, they will result in animal blood, but in higher amounts, since they're not as satisfying as humans. _

Well, that answers the first question; what do vampires look like? Pretty spot-on, I do say so myself. Still, I continued to read about vampires in their not-so skin-deep level.

_The abilities in vampires can vary from telekinesis, psychic telepathy, speed, stealth, mind control and transformation. _

Psychic telepathy? That sounded oddly familiar. Quickly, I folded the corner of that page, marking my spot, and thumbed through the rest of the book, trying to find the section on psychic telepathy. And what I read astonished me.

_Psychic telepathy is the action in which one person can tap into another person's mind. This also known as "mind reading", and depending on the strength of psychic telepathy from the first party, it can also expand into the possibility of psychic telekinesis taking place, which is also called "mind control" (the act of controlling someone's subconscious or consciousness and actions with the mind)._

_ Psychic telepathy can range from reading peoples' minds, controlling and manipulating peoples' minds, tapping into their subconscious and transmitting personal thoughts, feelings, emotions and images into the other person's mind, through sleep or consciousness, no matter if the first party is near or far from their victim. Distance knows no compromise from the ability. In psychic telepathy, the first party can transmit their own voice into the others mind, and a conversation can take place. _

_ Also, aside from psychic telepathy, with the ability of psychic telekinesis, the first party can cause their victim to fall into a controlled slumber, and teleport them back to any location they desire. This can cause the victim to experience a feeling of d___éjà vu___ or doubt of the occurrences. _

My heart skipped a beat. So, this meant that Henry was able to tap into my subconscious and put those dreams in my head, the same dream I had for an entire year. So, for an entire year, all he was trying to do was to tell me to meet him at the dockyard in the middle of the night. But, why?

Also, last night, after I had encountered him standing over Eric's lifeless body, I was sent into what felt like a deep sleep, but I heard his voice in my head. We had a long conversation, but I couldn't feel my lips moving. It must have been that we were telepathically talking to one another. So, even though he was the one who could possess psychic telepathy, I could also speak to him? This was starting to make a little more sense now. Especially since after our encounter, I ended up back in my apartment. That could have been the teleportation. That would explain why I felt like it had all been a dream. It wasn't the first time I had felt like this.

Then, I looked through the information on transformation.

_Vampires also have the ability to transform, but not into a whole lot of things. There are three distinct things that vampires can transform into: fog, bats and shadows. In being able to take flight, vampires need to turn into a bat in order to obtain flight and ascend into the sky at various heights. Shadows and fog are used mainly for camouflage. During foggy nights, vampires will transform into fog in order to escape from danger, or sneak up in their prey. Shadows are for when it's not quite nighttime out, but vampires need to go in for the kill. They'll blend in nicely with the shadows, whether it be the shadows of buildings, objects, or even people, whether they be on the move or standing completely still, but there are lower chances of someone being bitten by a vampire from their own shadow in broad daylight. Usually, around the time when the sun sets, is when they sneak around in shadows. This technique is used as a last resort, since vampires have an aversion to light. Aside from sunlight being one of their aversions, churches are too._

So that explained why, with our first encounter on the dock, Henry was so reluctant to stick around and talk to me. He panicked when the sun started to rise above the horizon. I had never seen him run so fast before, and act so skittish. But when he disappeared into the darkness, I saw something else fly above into the sky. What I had thought was a raven or a crow, might have actually been a bat, judging by the sharp, pointed wings.

As I soaked in all this information, I felt my hands tremble. I stood up, feeling the need to step away from the book for a few moments. So, this was all real. Everything I saw was completely real, and there was no doubt about it. God, how could I have been so stupid? I was too much of a stubborn idiot to actually believe the broadcaster's story. But, it was hard to believe nonetheless, since it was one of those things that never actually happened. And I had to wonder; how did it happen?

I thought about maybe asking Henry the next time I saw him, that is, if I were to ever see him again, which I hoped I would. Instead, I went back to the book and looked for many causes of vampirism. My hands were still shaken with all the possibilities, but I had to keep going.

_Causes of vampirism could derive from the following:_

_ Transformation through being bitten.*_

_ Being born as a vampire from one or two vampire parents._

_ From tainted, infected or ritualistic weapons used in slaying vampires._

_ Drinking vampire blood._

_ Legends say, the seventh-born child in a family holds magic powers, which could result in some magical transformation, but that's usually with wizardry. Vampirism is a rare case._

"Didn't Henry have six other brothers...?" I asked myself. I remember him saying so one time. If he was the seventh of the brothers, that could have explained it. But then, I noticed the asterisk from the second option and read the footnote.

_*There are two cases that happen when a victim is bitten by a vampire. If a substantial amount of blood is drained from the victim, they will die. However, when partial blood is drained, the vampire will inject the venom. When venom is in the system and blood is present, the venom will circulate throughout the victim's veins, causing the victim to transform into a vampire, and acquire the same abilities, characteristics and cravings. _

That explained the deaths of the victims around Empire Bay. My mind then flashed back to the hooker from a few days ago who was suffering from some unknown cause at the cathouse. The one who had died from being thrown church captivity. That also explained the aversion to churches as well. So, it wasn't really Henry who killed the prostitute, it was the church who had.

Having gathered all of the information, I closed the book. My hands were shaking harder than before. Finally, my thoughts and doubts were justified. Well, if Henry really was a vampire now, then why hadn't he come after me, or tried to attack me? Did I pose some kind of significant meaning to him? I don't see how I could have. I mean, we were just work partners. But then, I remembered a conversation I had with him when I was driving him to the Maltese Falcon to talk to Eddie and get him a place in the family. He told me he trusted me to vouch for him when introducing him to Eddie Scarpa. Maybe, his trust was more personal than professional.

I put the informative books aside, and took a small look at the other three: _Vampyre, Dracula _and _Nosferatu. _I had never done any leisurely reading before, besides the newspaper. I also had to read for a grade during school, too. Oh, fun.

I decided to see what the whole hype was about reading for fun. Well, it certainly would be a little informative to read simple fiction. I could get a little more out of it from a different author's perspective. Besides, it was about that time where I ought to develop a new hobby outside of my job.

I read for a good couple of hours, really getting lost in the story. I rarely ever checked the time while I was sinking into the pages. Strangely enough, as I was reading _Dracula_, I imagined Henry as Count Dracula, since he was the only vampire I knew of, so I manifested him into the character. But, when I was introduced to Mina Harker, I somehow envisioned myself in her place. My eyelids grew heavy as I dove into each and every detail explained on those starchy, stale pages, enveloping the characters within myself. I felt every emotion displayed by the characters, specifically Mina. The love and loss she felt for Dracula when they fell for each other. It's almost as if Henry was transmitting his feelings through me again, but with fictional characters instead. I wondered, if he was out there somewhere, reading my mind, giving me these thoughts, feeling what I was feeling. I wondered if he knew I was reading this book, and suddenly believing in him.

_You already believe._

That, I do.

Still, that didn't mean I was going to put down the book. Wow, I was really missing out. I guess Francesca was right when she told me books were her comfort. I felt the world melt around me as this book consumed my soul. What made it strange was that it was just a stack of paper bound together with someone's words and ideas printed in fine ink. Who knew that small black letters would bring such an impact to my heart? What changed it all was the fact that I wasn't doing this for a graded assignment, but for leisure. I sure was missing out on the simple pleasures.

Still, I couldn't get over how much love Mina and Dracula held towards one another, the amount of trust, the amount of care, the raw emotion. It's almost as if that could be Henry and I...

Suddenly, my concentration was broken when I heard the door open. I looked up from the book, knowing it was Francesca who had just come home. Quickly, I shut the book and scrambled to gather up the others and shove them in the paper back, which I proceeded to shove under my bed.

"Vito," she called out, "I'm home."

I walked out of my bedroom and greeted her at the door. "Hey, Frankie." I smiled cheekily at her, scratching the back of my head and placing my other hand on my hip. Francesca gave me an odd look before advancing into the living room, where she stood, almost surprised.

"You cleaned today, Vito," she began, sounding almost amazed. "I was gonna come home and do it for you, but I guess you've proven that you're able to live alone."

I rolled my eyes before pulling her into a one-arm hug. "Of course, I can," I replied. "I'm a grown man, I can take care of myself, as well as my own sister. It's a cinch."

Francesca gave a tiny chuckle before resting her head on my shoulder. I rested my head on her's as we just stood there in silence, enjoying each others' company. It felt great, having my sister back. Maybe things were going wrong for others, but things were starting to lighten up for me. I just hoped that whatever was going on with Joe was going alright. He didn't seem to pleased yesterday while we were on the phone. I thought about going to lunch with him today, since we were supposed to talk about an apartment for Francesca.

"I'm gonna go make a phone call," I began, letting go of Francesca. "I'm gonna talk to Joe about your apartment situation."

Francesca went to the kitchen to heat herself up a cup of tea as I dialed Joe's number on the phone. Holding the receiver up to my ear, I heard it ringing on the other end. It took a minute before I heard Joe's voice.

"Joe Barbaro speaking," he began, with that dull voice of his.

"It's Vito," I started, "Listen, I was wondering if we could meet up today at Freddy's to talk about the apartment for Francesca."

"Yeah, I was about to call you," Joe replied. "Eddie wants us to meet up with him at the Falcon to talk over some business."

"Ugh, really?" I scoffed. "Joe, I'm gonna be honest with you, I think Eddie's been jerking on our chains a little too much lately, especially yours."

"No, he's not," Joe replied blandly. "He's just been helpin' me out with some things, and I've been returning the favor too. He's good people, Vito. You know this."

"Huh, yeah. 'Good people'," I repeated. "Well, whatever. When I get there, I wanna talk about that apartment. My sister really needs a good place, and I've counted on you to hook me up with great homes, so I hope you can do the same for her."

"I know, I know, I got it covered," he replied. "I'll see you in a bit, Vito."

"Alright, yeah," I added. "See ya."

The line went dead, and I hung up the phone. I turned to Francesca and clapped my hands together.

"So, what'd he say?" Francesca ask, sitting on the couch with a cup of tea in her lap. She stirred it with a spoon patiently, her legs crossed.

"I'm gonna meet up with him at the Falcon," I replied. "He says he's got it all covered, but I'm gonna check. I trust Joe with my life, so I can trust him with your life, too."

Francesca furrowed her eyebrows. "I don't know about that, Vito, you know the kind of trouble he's gotten you into. I don't want him getting me into trouble either."

"That's all in the past, Frankie," I chuckled. "I forgave him a long time ago. He's done more good for me than bad. And the bad were things we couldn't control."

Francesca gave me a hesitant nod. "Alright, Vito. Just be careful."

"Apartment hunting shouldn't be too bad," I replied. "I told him what we're looking for, and he's gonna get you just what you need, what looks good, what has the rent that's best for your budget."

I turned my back to put on a jacket before opening up the door. "I'll be back in about an hour," I finished before leaving, shutting the door behind me.

As I walked through the doors of the Maltese Falcon, I was immediately greeted by the waiters, who had already seen me yesterday when I had taken Francesca out for lunch. They were always so polite to me every time I arrived, ever since I got into this business. But I knew it was just because of my title.

I looked around, my eyes darting about, trying to look for Joe. Finally, I caught a glimpse of him at a booth with Eddie, who seemed to be talking his ear off. Joe, on the other hand, looked anything but interested. I approached the two calmly, but on the inside, I dreaded exactly what Eddie had to say to us.

The underboss caught a glimpse of me and paused his conversation with Joe. He waved his arm around, signaling me over.  
>"Vito!" he greeted just as I made my way near the booth. "Take a seat. We've got a whole bunch of things to discuss."<p>

I reluctantly took a seat across from Joe, who was looking rather glum. This meant bad news. Eddie must have been saying something nasty to him to get him this way. As far as I knew, Eddie was a sociopath. No one else may have seen it, but I did. And his type of business probably meant harm.

"Alright, listen," Eddie started, leaning close to to me, folding his hands on the table. "I'm comin' up with somethin' _big_. I was just talkin' to Joe about it, and we agreed that you should be a part of it."

I glanced over at Joe, who glanced away. I had a feeling he was trying to hide his true emotions on the matter. I lifted an eyebrow, doubting Eddie's motives. There was a possibility that Joe was trying to hide something, and Eddie was forcing him to hide it. I was starting to have a bad feeling about this.

"What, Eddie?" I asked, glancing back over to Eddie.

Eddie gave me a dry smile. "I don't know if Joe told you, but I'm planning on starting my own crime family. From what he's told me, Galante hasn't really been giving you too much work. Honestly, I'm surprised that son of a bitch is still alive and active. Heh... I thought that piece of shit Henry took 'im out a year ago, but that rat prick son of a bitch was anything but reliable. Especially after the drug deal, am I right Vito?"

With every word that came out of Eddie's mouth, I wanted to reach across the table and strangle him with every ounce of strength in my body, but I refrained. Eddie could do the same twice as hard, and I would be dead within a flat second. I choked back my rage and gave him a sour expression. Nonetheless, he just laughed.

"Yeah, well," Eddie continued, "that shit's all in the past. Who gives a shit if Galante's not dead, he's not a real fuckin' threat anyway. He's just an old fuckin' fart. But, since he's got nothin' for the two of you, and he's leaving you guys to just sit around on your asses twiddling your thumbs for work, I'm gonna help you both out."

"How're you gonna help, Eddie?" I asked with heavy doubt in my voice.

"I was hoping you'd consider helping me in getting my crime family off the ground," Eddie continued, "and I'll help you two get some _real _fuckin' work done. Make some actual money, live _the life_ again. A year's worth of nothing ought'a bore the fuck outta anyone."

I looked over at Joe, who was still staring in the opposite direction. I could tell he wasn't into the whole idea either, but from the looks of it, it seemed as though Eddie had quite possibly forced him. No wonder Joe was so depressed.

"Thanks for the offer, Eddie," I replied, "but I work for Leo Galante, and so does Joe. He and I are in everything together. Joe probably doesn't want in on the offer either. Still, I hope for the best in your upcoming operation."

"Bah!" Eddie scoffed. "Of course Joe wants in on it! He and I had a long talk about it. He's been bored shitless for an entire year in Galante's family. He wants a change, too. And I thought you would want a change, too, since you're the adventurous type."

I glanced at Joe again, who let out a deep sigh. Eddie was putting words into his mouth. Joe really didn't want to join in on Eddie's operation, and I could see it. A disgusting thought stirred in my mind; Eddie was beating Joe down, and Joe was giving into it.

"Like I said," my voice low, "thanks for the offer, but I have to refuse."

Then, Eddie got defensive. "Is it because I used to work for Falcone, and you and him got into it towards the end of his life? Well, I assure you, I was never like him. I wasn't into the whole drug business, because I'm not a careless asshole like he was. So there's no reason you shouldn't want to be in my family."

"I said no," I finished, asserting myself. I wasn't going to let Eddie beat me down.

"Fine," Eddie replied. "Since you refuse, I've got nothin' else more to say to you. Arrivederci."

I stood up, and walked away, but before I did, I patted Joe on the shoulder. "I gotta talk to you about somethin'."

Joe slipped out of the booth, and I saw out of the corner of my eye, Eddie giving him a dirty look. Joe even saw it, because he looked frightened. I pulled him aside, as far away from Eddie as possible, and began our conversation.

"So, did you find an apartment for Francesca?" I asked, glancing up at him.

"I'm still workin' on it," Joe sighed, "it's just that Eddie's been keepin' me real busy."

"About that," I interrupted, "I think Eddie's up to no good."

"What makes you say that?"

"You know, Joe." My voice grew more stern. "Ever since you've been hangin' around him, you've been miserable. I can see it. The way he talks to you, beats you down, manipulates and bullies you into caving into his plans. He's a grade-A sociopath."

Joe looked the other way, trying not to meet his eyes with mine. He knew I was right, and I could see the shame on his face from it.

"Joe, you're better than this," I started, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Eddie's bad news. He's trying to use you, and I can see it."

"He's not _using_ me, Vito," Joe scoffed. "He just needs help getting his dreams off the ground, and he trusts me the most, so I'm backing him up."

"Do you want to be his family?" I asked. "Be honest."

"Well, I... yeah."

"Bullshit. That wasn't honesty one bit," I confronted. "You don't want to be in Eddie's family. Joe, please don't give into his manipulation. You're better than this. You and I work together as a team. You and I have known each other since we were little kids. You're not gonna throw away our partnership for him, are you?"

Joe looked down, furrowing his eyebrows in a sad manner. I caught a glimpse of his expression, and it looked as though he was about to cry. I put a hand on his shoulder and continued to speak.

"Look, he doesn't know you the way I do," I continued. "If anything, all he knows is how to beat people down into giving in to what he wants. He'll sweet talk you, and if you refuse, he'll come back with violence. And all he'll do is make you feel bad about yourself, and make you feel like your only worth is the worth he allows you to have. You're a lot more than that, Joe. He doesn't see it, but I do. He just sees you as a pawn, just like Carlo saw me as."

Joe nodded softly, taking in every word. "I just need some time to think, Vito."

"Alright," I finished. "You've always had a strong hold on yourself. Keep that up."

Turning his back, Joe walked out of the restaurant. As the door closed, I could have sworn that I saw him swipe his hand across his cheek. Either my words got to him emotionally, or he'd hit his breaking point.

I stood still, thinking if I should go back to the booth and tell Eddie off, or go home. I didn't feel like starting another whole conflict, so I advanced towards the door.

I hopped in my car and started to drive in the direction of my apartment. As I drove, I gripped the steering wheel angrily until my knuckles became white. It felt like just yesterday, I had seen Joe smiling so brightly, I had been buying suits with him, we had been kicking so much ass. It was funny how things decided to go rotten so quickly. As much as I wanted things to go back to normal, to be happy again, to live a simple life with simple pleasures, I knew it'd be an impossible thing to achieve.

I knew none of it would get better if I just internalized it all and let it smolder, so I decided to flip on the radio station to let the music calm me down. Instead of music, I got something completely different: a vampire update.

_"This just in! Another person has fallen victim to the vampire attack! Thirty-four year-old Eric Reilly was found dead at the port today, his neck broken, laying in a pool of his own blood. Authorities say he's been there since last night, and was just discovered this morning. After much investigation, Eric was left with two puncture wounds in his jugular, his flesh drained with color. His body was taken to the nearby church, and the officials have confirmed that Eric's death was from a vampire. Due to a previous death, are going to shut down the port for investigation until further notice. The dock workers will be sent home with paychecks from the state before they're able to work again. Remember; the cops will be swarming the city at night, so retreat in your homes and say your prayers each night for the safety of your family."_

So, it really did happen. Not only had I gone through the research, and pieced together my conclusions, but this was clear cut evidence of last night's events. There was no way I couldn't believe now. As dumbfounded as I was, I cracked a smile. Eric really was dead, and I didn't have to do a damn thing about it. Thank you, Henry.

I finally arrived back at my apartment and parked my car outside, running up the stairs so I could greet Francesca. I knew she hated the idea that I was still associated with Joe, so in knowing this, I knew she was also deeply worried for me. I didn't blame her, though. Being my big sister and all, and the second female family member after Mama, she was obligated to worry about me and be a second mother to me.

As I opened the door, I threw my jacket on the coat rack, but just as I turned around to head towards the living room, I was immediately met with Francesca running into my arms in a fit of sadness and tears.

"Oh! Oh, Vito! I'm so glad you're home!" she sobbed, burying her face in my chest.

"Frankie, Frankie," I started, rubbing her back with comfort. "Shh, hey, what's wrong?"

"It-it's...!" She could barely choke out a single word as she continued to cry. I encircled my arms around her, pulling her into a tight squeeze. Sometimes, I wondered what her random outbursts of sadness were all about, but I decided not to question it. She was an emotional person, and I understood. But, this seemed serious.

"Just, calm down and tell me what's wrong," I started.

"I... I was listening... to the radio..." she began. "It's Eric... he... he..."

So, she heard it, too. I had a feeling she would. Francesca is somewhat of a radio and music addict. With anything she decided to do, music would be involved. I wasn't surprised she heard the news as well.

"Well, at least he's gone now," I replied in a dry tone.

"Vito! How could you...?"

"Look, Frankie, he hurt you," I started, pulling away and caressing her shoulders so I could look into her eyes. "He had it comin'. He's dead and gone now, and he won't be able to hurt anyone like he had hurt you."

Francesca stopped crying for a moment, trying to catch her breath and find the words to match mine. She proceeded to wipe her cheeks on the back of her sleeve, sniffling. I didn't blame her for crying over Eric's death. Even though he hurt her, he was still her husband at one point, and it was hard not to cry for the loss of someone so closely associated, even though the love was gone.

That could have explained why I didn't cry over Henry's death. Because something told me, something within me knew, that he wasn't always gone, and neither was the love.

Was it love all along?


End file.
